


Dominoes

by scratchienails



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crime Fighting, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, F/M, M/M, Secret Identity, Stream of Consciousness, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kudo Shinichi: high school intrepid reporter in a city of super-powered vigilantes and villains. Current status: In distress, probably. Could really use a superhero, maybe. Waiting on a certain team of teen heroes to get their shit together, mostly. Snarky and annoyed, definitely. Superhero!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey Mr. Big-Name-Kid

“So, Niwa-san, your company can attest to owing its recent, and very impressive, success to you new summer line?”

Niwa Hachiro: head of the popular textile company that produced the _Sakura_ _Loom_ line that was released into stores last June. The company, S &L Co., was until the most recent spring suffering under millions of yen in debt, until sudden boosts in profits worldwide, and the cutting of paychecks and letting go of a vast amount of employees, _revitalized_ the failing business. The company had always produced high-quality, fashionable clothing, usually accompanied by a heavy price tag. Production, based off of last week’s visit to retailers, had oddly increased in recent months, despite the loss of a major portion of the workforce, and its cost had apparently lessened significantly, and the now cheaper clothes caused an extreme increase in sales.

Niwa preened under his apparent praise, a proud grin stretching across his face, as his dark eyes flickered form the camera lens back to the reporter’s seemingly vapid face. He leaned a fraction of a centimeter in towards the microphone held out before him. Niwa’s eyes slipped down with the casual movement, tracing over the questioner’s long legs with a subtle leer.

The CEO began to speak. “Yes, our summer line has been doing very well, but we must also thank every single one of our employees who have been dedicating themselves to ensure its success.”

The reporter almost raised an eyebrow, but refrained, maintaining a perfect expression of unsuspecting interest while pulling the microphone back to his own lips. “It’s very impressive that morale has remained so high despite the recent firings. How has your company managed to inspire it’s workforce so?” The company head’s pleasant smile grew, and sharp blue eyes caught how his fingers wiggled, as if itching for something. Greedy little motions.

“Well, S&L has always prided itself on being a family, factory workers included. The inability to pay so many of our precious employees hit us all hard, so we’ve redoubled efforts to bring the company back from the brink. With continued success we hope to be able to rehire everyone we’ve lost, so everyone is very dedicated to the current projects.”

“Your company has also always prided itself on centering its factories here in Japan, rather than outsourcing, correct?” Niwa blinked, slightly blind-sided and smile faltering for just half a second before it returned back full-throttle, but with a sinister twist.

This CEO was tougher than he initially thought; he had a good grasp of his own reactions and how to work the camera to his favor. Pity he still didn’t stand a chance.

The reporter quietly and unobtrusively traced his knee with his microphone-free hand, and the businessman momentarily paused at the movement, slightly distracted. He hated these tactics, the little movements, the near imperceptible flirtations. Just enough seduction to make even the minds of the least interested people wander.

Just the briefest falter, the shortest moment of distraction, could lose a player the game.

And so his opponent, the CEO, refocused and made his next move. “Yes, the previous heads have always maintained a tradition of keeping the company within our country. As a proud Japanese company, we must do our best to give back to our people and the economy.”

“You only took up the headship two years ago. Will this be changing under your leadership?”

“Certainly not. Especially not considering the current recession.” Niwa’s smile couldn’t be called that anymore, reduced to a tight quirk of the corners of his lips. The reporter leaned forward, exposing his collarbones from where they peeked out of his loosened tie and dress shirt. Sexuality meant nothing when it came to certain thoughts; even a man’s neck could elicit images, recollections, and half-remembered desires in the straightest of men.

“How many factories does S&L have producing the Sakura Loom line?”

“Three.” The businessman replied, as a dress shoe slid up his leg, an action the questioner knew, while out of sight of the camera, was pushing the limits of propriety.

“The first two are in Yokohama and Himeji, right? Where is the third?” He pressed, and Niwa took a moment to gather his concentration, eyes refocusing, and hastily responded. His gaze flickered to the top right; inconclusive studies reported that could mean he was visually constructing an image. But there was no real need for that observation. “Yokkaichi.” Inwardly the reporter smirked. Outwardly, he smoothed his hand over his thigh, a casual but eye-catching movement.

“I was under the impression that the Yokkaichi factory was taking commissions for new school uniforms for the coming school year.” He said with an innocent mix of confusion and insecurity. The businessman ate it up, grasping the apparent insecurity like a dog presented a steak, eager to tip the scales of power back in his own favor.

“Wrong impression, then.” Niwa smiled genially, forcing an easy air. The reporter relented his little distractions, picking up a binder from the desk before them with slender fingers. The innocuous binder had rested there during the interview, next to his jacket and the tripod; its damning contents always at hand. He rested it in his lap and took his time flipping open the black cover, revealing carefully laminated forms and photos, marked with the official S&L logo.

“These production records from the factory say differently.” A smile of the reporter’s own played across his lips, his eyes suddenly predatory, as if he were descending upon a cornered meal. Niwa jolted, lurching forward, all fake good humor lost. The reporter flipped the page, presenting a new set of papers. “And these import records also say that the Sakura Loom line was not produced in Japan at all, but rather was brought in from India.”

The CEO’s mouth hung open, wide eyes raking over the presented images and forms in abject horror.

“I have pictures of the factory, as well, if you’d like to see them. Particularly the regulation breaking locked exits, inexistent fire escapes, and what appears to be child labor. Not to mention the entire building’s unstable infrastructure detailed in _these_ blueprints, and samples of the fumes your workers are spending eighteen hours a day inhaling.” The reporter continued mercilessly, and Niwa made a sort of choked noise in the back of his throat.

“Bizarrely enough, the building and conditions are identical to another factory that recently collapsed after a manufacturing accident started a fire. The flames resulted in the explosion that sent the entire building collapsing in on itself and six hundred workers, only ninety of which survived. The workers had been unable to escape due to there being no emergency exits, stairs, or windows, and the locked doors essentially trapped them in a collapsing oven.

“Even more coincidentally, this incident has gone unreported by Japan’s news, despite the indisputable owner of the factory being the S&L Corporation.

“Well, Niwa-san, what’s your response to all this? Will you take responsibility for the hundreds of deaths—“

“I deny all theses accusations!” Niwa yelled, face purpling with frustration and rage, but the reporter was already moving. He threw his jacket over his arm while tossing the microphone into his bag, and collected the camera and tripod as two security guards slipped into the office. Despite his agility, his equipment weighed him down, and the two men in suits managed to catch hold of him and wrestled out the camera. One dutifully removed the memory card, while the other held him still by the forearms, ignoring his struggles and squawks of protest, before the video camera was carelessly tossed back into his bag. The card was handed directly over to Niwa, who held it triumphantly out, teasingly waving it back and forth as he began to gloat.

“Honestly, brat, so arrogant to think I’ll just let you walk away with this?” The black binder was pulled out next, and tossed onto the desk. “Though, I must say that I appreciate that you brought all this lovely evidence to me first.”

“Give that back!” The reporter hissed, his foot slamming into his captor’s shin with a satisfying crack. The burly man groaned and momentarily released him, only to snatch him bodily off the ground as he tried to make a run for it.  The guard’s arm wrapped around the reporter’s chest as he painstakingly heaved the struggling kid around to be dumped outside the building. “Give it! I didn’t make—“ He cut off his own protests, a panicked expression flitting across his face in a single, damning instant.

“No copies, huh? This is precisely why high school brats should stay out of the game.” Niwa laughed, and the teenager made a strangled sound of fury. “Get rid of him, boys.”

Security carted him out through the halls, the elevator, and then the lobby, throwing him out into the street with disgusted huffs. He was left there on the sidewalk, wide eyed and shaking, as they disappeared back into the S&L building with victorious smirks.

Kudo Shinichi got up, dusted himself off, and collected his bag and jacket from where they had fallen with a restored cool, just the slightest smile threatening to break out across his dignified expression. The memory card he had hastily replaced with a blank with some sleight of hand before he was caught was returned to the camcorder, and the _real_ binder pulled out from where it had been hidden underneath his school uniform in his bag. Pleased with both his act and the successful bait-and-switch, he sauntered away from the building, happy to catch the bus back home and ruin a multi-billion yen company.

The Kudo Manor was waiting for him with lights off, a definite sign that he was the only one home. Feeling relieved, he made a beeline for his room, and more importantly, the computer within. He didn’t dare bring his laptop to interviews; angry scoops were often all too willing to crush nice things (he hadn't actually expected his camcorder to survive today, but wow, maybe even his luck could be good sometimes). While he waited for the interview to upload for editing, he got to work touching up the article detailing the events in India and the cover up, while adding in Niwa's denials and quotes from the afternoon showing the man's reluctance to admit to his actions.

It was well into the evening by the time the story was ready to go live, but there was no denying the overwhelming feeling of satisfaction that swept over him, after weeks of travel, heavy research, and erasing any evidence of the more questionably legal actions that resulted in the truth finally being released to the public. Not exactly how most teens would boast spending break, but there was no feeling better than seeing hard work pay off as everything came together. The mobile app for his website immediately informed his readers that a new article had been published, and right away his site’s views rocketed up as thousands introduce themselves to Kudo's newest big scoop. Many were loyal fans; others were newscasters, reporters, and all his other competitors waiting for a story to pounce upon. He held no claims to the stories he published, except enough to discourage plagiarism, of course, so as many stations, papers, and sites could report in on the dirt he unearthed as possible. So long as the truth got out, he was satisfied; though, in the end, everyone still knew _exactly_ who came out with it first.

Satisfaction curled in his stomach as he crawled into bed after a quick meal and removing the carefully applied makeup from his face. He has been working on this story for weeks with few breaks for rests, and he was still pretty jetlagged, so the bed felt like heaven. Tomorrow he’d wake up to the fallout, but for now, he didn’t feel guilty about resting his eyes for a moment.

* * *

 

The skyline of London was alit with a certain energy that night, the flashes of blue and red lights dancing through the streets as helicopters spun through the air, shining beams like spotlights down below. The air carried a brilliant, energetic feeling, as if crackling with excitement and buzzing with anticipation.

A crowd gathered outside a museum, moving and rippling with the wind as their eyes collectively set on the sky, hearts pounding and breath held.

It began with someone muttering slightly under their breath, a quiet whisper of awe, before soft exclamations burst forth, building and amplifying into a solid chant, voices rising and falling in excitement-induced unison.

“KID! KID! KID!”

The cheering raised in volume and tempo as the sirens increased, sharp wails cutting through the air in time with the voices, until broken by an unexpected disturbance from above.

A sleek black jet descended towards the roof of the museum, carrying a bold emblem on its side: a plain, grinning theatre mask.

The crowd shifted anxiously, and annoyance built among the audience, until another enchanted murmur started the chanting afresh, this time stronger, wilder, and faster, as if rebelling against the intimidating presence of the plane and its occupants.

“KID! KID! KID!”

“Man, they’re really riled up tonight.” A heavy accented voice echoed down, speaking in Japanese. Clinging to the military-grade, inch thick wires that descended from the jet’s bay were multiple figures, all masked and armed and defiantly glowing in the darkness of the night. The one who spoke was dressed in deep greens and bright reds, and his dark skin emitted a fiery brilliance, as if he were another star in the night sky. He watched the crowd carefully through the veiled eyes of his domino, mouth twisted in aggravation.

“Well, it’s been months since the last heist in England.” A girl was drifting through the air, surrounded by a halo of soft light. The white, red, and soft pinks of her costume contrasted brilliantly with her long, dark hair. Though she spoke softly, her voice was strong, carrying even in the churning air and wild wind.

“Why are they cheering for that jerk, though?” Another girl grumbled, clinging to her wire a little nervously. Her costume was blue and white, in contrast to the figure next to her, who wore red and black and dusty brown. “He’s a bad guy!”

“Some people call us the bad guys, Tsuyu.” The man at her side replied, tone even, as he carefully measured the direction of the wind that tussled his blond hair.

“Well,” The final figure huffed, as she bounced between the hanging lines at neck-breaking speeds. She wore dark green and grey, but her skin radiated a ghostly aura. “It won’t be an issue anymo’ since we’re gonna bring him down!” Her voice rose sharply near the end of her statement, and those nearby flinched from the shrill sound that pierced the air.

“Watch whatcha doin’, Banshee!”

“Shut up, Heiliopause, ya idiot! I’m in complete control—”

The frustrated shout was interrupted by a sudden jerk in the jet’s hovering, jostling the hanging crew and even knocking loose Tsuyu, whose grip on her wire had already been tenuous.

“Tsuyu!” The flying girl in white swept her out of the air before she could fall very far. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, Angel, but—”

“The hell was that, Hawk?” Heliopause snarled upwards, glaring at the bottom of the jet. Again, the whole craft shuddered, before beginning to bank to the left, away from the museum.

“Don’t tell me…” Hawk muttered and fortunately, no one had to. As their plane went haywire and lead them away from the scene, the crowd began to go wild with excitement, as all the sirens went silent and interfering lights were one by one extinguished.

Atop the museum, a figure emerged from a sudden burst of mist, with a showman’s cry of “Ladies and gentlemen!” Clad elegantly in a flawlessly white suit and top hat, with a flickering cape behind him, the star of the show finally appeared.

The heist began.

* * *

 

He woke up earlier than he would have liked the next morning, Saturday, the second to last day of break, to noise that could only be created by a handful of uninvited teenagers. He groaned as he tugged his pillow over his head, trying to block out the distant but disturbing arguing, clattering, and laughter. A very familiar voice was singing, likely in the kitchen, with no distinguishable melody. His mother must have been helping Ran make breakfast.

His _mother_ , when did she show up? His father must be around as well, which explained the absolute ruckus downstairs. Kudo Yusaku was a man with a great deal of followers: “interns” that invaded the manor whenever he was in town.

Shinichi wistfully recalled three years ago, when the city was still peaceful and _normal_ , when he would not see his parents for months at a time, but with the sudden increase in meta-human activity and near-apocalyptic attacks on the metropolis, the two of them have made more of an effort to return every few weeks, bringing along with them his father’s apprentice and his entourage of friends. The only silver lining was that Ran was a part of the posse, so he finally got to see her after long periods of nothing. They’d been dating for nearly a year and a half, and yet lately, he rarely ever saw her outside, and sometimes even _in_ , school. They used to be inseparable, but since joining up with Yusaku’s protégé, she seemed to have become perpetually busy, inconsistent, and unreliable.

(He knew he wasn’t being fair, but it was so much easier to be mad than hurt.)

She was downstairs now, though. He could go spend some time with her. Months ago that thought would have had him up and out of bed in a instant, now his limbs didn’t even so much as twitch.

Something angry twisted in his stomach. He didn’t want to see her, not really, not today. He had felt so good, relieved and proud, last night; he wanted to savor his own success a little longer. His mother would come up soon, to check if he was actually home and if so wake him for breakfast. He had to get out of the house before then.

And, well, if his father was in town, something big must be going down. His father’s returns seemed to have an uncanny correlation with explosions, super villains, not-so-natural disasters, and the Earth’s imminent doom. He could almost smell the scoop developing somewhere through the pillow over his face.

Two big stories in a row? Maybe his luck was finally taking a turn for the better. Big news tempted him out of bed like a seductress would in, so he heaved himself away from the warmth and soft firmness of his mattress to the closet. Thankfully, there’s a bathroom connected to his personal quarters, so he didn’t have to sneak about any invaders that could report his presence to his mother. Ten minutes later he was freshened up, dressed professionally but comfortably, and began to pack. Freelance press ID? Check. Digital camera? Check. High-end camcorder? Check! Lock picks? Handcuffs? Voice recorder? Microphone? Batteries? Everything else?

It paid to be prepared in his line of work, particularly with his crazy life as a crime-magnet. His big duffel bag was heavy when fully packed, but he had no other choice as an independent, high school, freelance reporter without a cameraman. And even burdened, he was damn fast on his feet, as the starting striker and captain of the soccer team, which also happened to be an essential skill to escape this house. The second floor was relatively safe, the only visitor that would be up here was his father, and if so, he would be locked up in the library or office. The first floor would be harder to navigate, with his mother and Ran blocking off the kitchen and therefore the backdoor, and the other’s likely invading the living room, in-between the stairs and the front door. Not that any of them could really stop him from leaving, but they could alert Ran. So, dining room window it was.

Of course, it’s never that simple, now is it?

Hakuba caught him just as he had silently made his way down the stairs, expectant.

“Sneaking out so soon? You haven’t even greeted Ran-san.” The blond always spoke with such maturity that Shinichi almost wanted to like him. He and the other were alike in so many ways; they shared the same interests and passions and would likely get along fantastically if not for two very debilitating reasons.

“I figured she already has plans for after breakfast that I’m not invited to.” He remarked right back, purposely adding a sharp edge to his words while still remaining completely civil. What ever plans Ran undoubtedly had, they likely involved the blond and not him, her supposed boyfriend. Hakuba recognized a topic that will inevitably result in conflict, and let it go.

“I read your story on the factory collapse.” He tried instead, expression pleasant. Shinichi was not fooled.

“Oh?”

“Honestly, Kudo-kun, when you went off to India to investigate a ‘huge scoop’ I was not expecting it to be _this_ huge.” The blond continued, sounding half-impressed and half-exasperated. “How did you even pull this off?”

“Don’t worry, Hakuba, there’s no proof that I did anything illegal to obtain any of those documents and pictures.” Shinichi didn’t bother with pretenses; he knew exactly what Hakuba was really asking. As a detective, the blond was always suspicious of something or other.

“You’re as bad as Kuroba-kun, sometimes, I swear.” Shinichi rolled his eyes. Case in point of Hakuba being a completely paranoid busybody: Kuroba Kaito was some guy he had never met in Hakuba’s class, that the detective was absolutely convinced was also the infamous jewel thief Kaitou KID. But had absolutely zero evidence besides the circumstantial to prove it. Honestly, he respected the British boy’s abilities as an investigator, but some days it felt like the guy believed everyone around him to be a superhero or villain until provided with reason to actually assume otherwise. It was always guilty until proven innocent with Hakuba.

Or maybe Shinichi was just a tad bitter when it came to his acquaintance, who, funnily enough, had everything he always wanted. Kudo Yusaku had taken the blond under his wing when both boys were just nine, guiding Hakuba on the path towards becoming the most renown teen detective in both the United Kingdom and Japan, while simultaneously sabotaging all Shinichi’s own attempts to follow after his role model Sherlock Holmes’s example. His father, acclaimed as the “World’s Greatest Detective” despite being a _novelist_ , believed the career of a private eye too dangerous for his own son, but ideal for another man’s.

But Shinichi was contrary by nature, particularly when his parents were involved, and by the time he was twelve he was secretly running a crime blog from his desktop computer. Ha, take that, _Father_.

When Yusaku had gotten wind of these Internet activities (“He’s not just watching porn? Wait, he’s not watching _any_ porn? Then what’s he doing in that bedroom of his all day and night?”) via one baffled Inspector Megure, it was too late. Shinichi had made a career as an investigative reporter.

“If you’re heading out, then I assume you’ve… caught a scent, so to speak?”

Shinichi smiled despite himself. “Maybe. Want in?”

“I would never dream of interfering with a news investigation. But I am a detective, and I know how you are prone to, ah, coming across criminal inconveniences. Do try to be careful.”

_Oi, oi, I don’t want to hear that from you._

Shinichi promptly decided the conversation was over, and continued on his way, brushing past the blond with his head held high. No point skipping the lobby now that he had been spotted, he would just have to hurry through.

Unsurprisingly, that weird Osakan and his ponytail girlfriend were spread over the couch, arguing. He almost managed to walk right past them, both too caught up in clawing at each other to pay much attention to their surroundings, but another girl walked in just as he’d almost completed his escape.

“Oh, Kudo-kun!” She called, noticing him immediately, which snapped the bickering pair out of the dispute and brought their attention towards him. The whistle-blower was Nakamori Aoko, who he knew the least well out of all his father’s interns. She looked remarkably like Ran, which was reason enough for him to try and keep his distance, even though he loathed admitting it even in the safety of his own mind. “Good morning! Already heading out?” She asked, but he didn’t quite have a chance to answer due to Hattori’s happy exclamation of “Kudo!”

The Osakan was, frankly, an enigma. Friendly and outgoing, he somehow ended up taking a shine to Shinichi on the first day they met. Shinichi had at the time thought, hoped, if he was honest with himself, it was the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. He wasn’t wrong, but not exactly right either. Their acquaintanceship was one of endless mixed messages. Hattori had a habit of lighting up the moment Shinichi stepped into the room, of chattering to him about sports and food, and calling him frequently with _more_ chattering. But, in contrast, he constantly changed the course of conversation, or sometimes abruptly ended it, if Shinichi brought up cases, or work, or his father and family, or Ran, or any of their mutual acquaintances really, or just about anything that _wasn’t_ school, sports, and restaurants. Such interactions make it abundantly clear that Shinichi was locked permanently out of the loop about a _lot_ of things, and since Hattori was obviously a shit liar and secret keeper, the other teen often avoided Shinichi or blatantly ignored him for days on end after such blunders, going from clingy to guiltily chilly basically every couple of weeks.

Shinichi hated lies, hated secrets, and most of all, hated the reminder that he is basically drowning in both those things, and therefore, kept his distance as much as he was able. Today, though, it seemed Hattori had elected to speak with him. “Hey, man, every news channel is talkin’ about ya!”

Kazuha, Hattori’s not-quite girlfriend, slapped him on the arm. “Moron, ya make it sound like they’re gossipin’ ‘bout him!”

With a look that mimicked how annoyed _Shinichi_ felt, Hattori snapped right back. “Idiot! Kudo knows what I mean, don’tcha Kudo?”

But Shinichi just sighed and hefted his bag a bit further up his shoulder, and departed from the scene of impending couple drama with a wave to Aoko. The continuing bickering followed him right out the front door.

Still, the knowledge of his story making such a splash lightened his mood and brought a smirk to his lips. It was a nice spring day outside, still early enough for coffee, but close enough to noon for the air to be warm.  He thought about going to Poirot for his daily dose of caffeine, and popping into the Mouri Detective Agency to see if there were any cases he should report on that he had missed in the past two weeks. Maybe there he would pick up a scent of any impending trouble; otherwise he would just make his way to the police station and popular hubs in the city.

Undoubtedly, he’d run into something eventually. That’s just how his life went.

* * *

 

When he arrived at the Mouri Detective Agency, he found Kogoro watching TV. Which would be fine if it were anyone else, it was a Saturday morning after all, but considering this seemed to be the itinerary for _every_ day, it annoyed him.

“Good morning, Occhan.” He called, as he entered without knocking. The room was cluttered with beer cans and loose papers. Ran must not have been home last night, or earlier today. Actually, it was likely she hadn’t been back to the agency in roughly a week, considering the levels of unsorted or disposed trash, the number of convenience store bentos, and heavy scent of tobacco. Kogoro barely looked away from the TV, haggard and worn, and obviously nursing a hangover.

“Finally back to your usual snooping, brat?” Shinichi ignored the response, poking around the desk. There was information about a missing adolescent there. A boy, thirteen and from Osaka, had reportedly been missing for six weeks now.

“Is this your most recent case?” He asked, picking up the paper with the boy’s picture and details. Kogoro glared at him.

“Tch, that’s days old, so mind your own business.”

“Days?”

“The kid’s friend dropped by on Thursday, claiming he’s been missing for nearly almost two months. Nobody knows exactly when he disappeared, and the parents never filed a missing persons report. Seems to be just your typical runaway.”

The mentioned friend had left a cell number at the bottom of the page. Shinichi took a picture of the whole paper, before saving it into his phone. This tale was an unfortunately common one, but something about it bothers him. When he brushed his fingers along the paper, he got a feeling of dread and foreboding, and slight panic.

Well, he came here looking for a scent, so might as well follow it. He pocketed the picture too, figuring he might be able to glean more from it given time.

“Thanks, Occhan. Where’s Ran been?”

“She left last Wednesday with Sonoko for some stupid villa visit or something."

Shinichi pursed his lips. The look Kogoro shot him was somewhere between pity and knowing. Which just showed how far his relationship with her has sunk.

He was tempted to call Sonoko and ask her side of the story, but already knew that his childhood not-friend would tell him that Ran went somewhere with her mother, or whatever other excuse she had been fed.

On the way out, back into the streets, he took out his phone to begin the investigation. He called the number that had been left with the case details as he headed down the avenue, already having a destination in mind.

The person on the other end of the line was a volunteer at the local youth center, Asakawa Shimpei. He was nineteen and in college, but spent his free afternoons overseeing the recreational sports teams’ practices. The missing one was Moriguchi Satoshi, one of the older kids on the Frisbee team at thirteen, who had stopped going to practices mid-February. The concerned coach visited his home address, but did not meet Satoshi there, and apparently inquiries about the boy’s whereabouts to his parents had been met with aggression, and had been thrown out into the street. Unsurprised by the treatment, due to having suspected the parents to be abusive for months, the coach then reported in to the local police, who conducted a search. Satoshi was never found, and when the parents were thoroughly questioned by authority figures they couldn’t chase out, they claimed Satoshi had run away to Tokyo.

Investigations of the house revealed that not only was the home in squalor, but a portion of Satoshi’s clothes were missing, along with a couple other items. It sounded like tens of other stories Shinichi had heard, but again, a horrible feeling crept up his spine.

It reminded him of the nauseous sensation he always got when he was about to stumble across a corpse.

Well, one missing kid wasn’t much of a story, but Shinichi did have an idea about how to pursue it. He headed downtown towards the docks, and subsequently, the warehouse districts. Many runaways, orphans, and other vagabond kids frequently hid out in a particular bunch of rundown, unmanned buildings, gathering with sleeping bags, hungry eyes, and heaps of information.

The place carried the feeling of hopelessness and chaos, so he didn’t actually head there all that often, because first off, he grew up in an elegant Western mansion and was generally used to the rigid order of police work, and secondly, well, he usually wasn’t very welcome there anymore. That’s just what tended to happen when a story a reporter runs, arrogantly thinking that the publicity will help the reluctant subjects and thinking oneself a savior for it, happened to go wrong and resulted in the desperate inhabitants losing yet another shelter. Shinichi had been a different person then, and the shame still weighed heavily on his shoulders, especially the closer he got to his destination.

But he wasn’t going to run away. There was a kid in trouble, and Shinichi could help him. He owed those poor vagrants at least that much.

The warehouse he came too was dilapidated and eerie, even in the bright sunlight of the day. Wary, cold eyes tracked him through the dusty shadows, and young teens were scrambling in the darkness, away from the portions of floor illuminated by the sunlight shining through the grimy windows of the rundown building. They tracked his footsteps as he made his way further in, making his presence more conspicuous than he usually would. It was for the best that they didn’t have any reason to think he was snooping, lest they get aggressive in their desperation.

The whispering echoed through the quiet halls, nervous and anxious, scared. While the homeless children that hide here from abusive caretakers and a broken foster system tended to be harrowed and weary, they were all still adolescents; the warehouse usually was filled with shouting, laughing, and arguing, just general childish shenanigans, but today the atmosphere was thick with fear, suffocating the warehouse’s inhabitants.

Something was very, very wrong.

Eventually, a tall figure emerged from the murky gloom, hovering threateningly in his path. Shinichi recognized this teen, which was just a year older than him and far more sharpened by strife. Daichi was rugged around the edges, with dark skin and darker eyes and bleached hair so filthy it might as well still have been brown, but he was also powerfully built, and deadly in a fight. The ringleader and protector of the little refugees gathered in this ragged shelter.

He glared and sneered, bodily blocking any further progression into the base, “Look who it is. The rich smarty is back. Gonna screw us over again?”

Shinichi wasn’t really listening to his snarls, instead observing the stressed and anxious figures scattered in the hall, quivering with too bright eyes.

"What's going on here?" He asked, skipping any pleasantries or snark. Daichi bristled and frowned at him, aggression fading into cold wariness. He knew his usual howling and barking wouldn’t scare off Shinichi, even if it sent gangsters scrambling for safer turf.

"None of your business, snoop. Why are you here?"

Shinichi pulled out Satoshi’s picture, and presented it to Daichi, who took it with a look of slight disdain. "I'm looking for this boy. Do you know him?"

Daichi was still, face carefully blank in frustrated annoyance. "...No. Why?" Not necessarily a lie, but the posture of the rugged teen suggested evasiveness and unease. Daichi was hiding something.

"He ran away from his abusive home in Okinawa. He supposedly came here."

"So, why look for him? Drag him back to his good-for-nothing parents?"

"Of course not. But his friend is very worried about him. This kid might be in trouble."

Daichi frowned, but relented. If there was anything this dilapidated pack leader couldn’t resist, it was a troubled kid on the lamb. "I'll ask around." Worry had tightened the corners of his eyes and there was an ill-boding droop in his shoulders as he finally rasped out his answer.

Shinichi didn’t ask. "Thank you."

Yellowed teeth flashed in a snarl, but there was no real animosity in the gesture. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for him. Sometimes it helps just to know somebody's looking for you, that someone out there cares."

_I wonder,_ Shinichi thought, privately.

“Some of my kids say they saw him around about a week ago. They tried to snag him, but he said he didn’t need any help. He was hanging around the old fish garage on the docks, about six blocks from here, for two days. They haven’t seen him since.”

* * *

 

The “old fish garage” was actually another old, abandoned building that had been given up as a lost cause after an incredibly bad, and ill attended, mold infection spoiled the stock that was processed there. For months it had been up for demolition, but the project would not begin for another two; however, as Shinichi stood in the dust and gloom after jimmying the lock to slip inside, he realized that the building might not even last that long.

More importantly, there were vestige signs of an inhabitant underneath the rusted stairs. A stained blanket and pillow had been carelessly thrown on the grimy floor, and junk food bags and tinfoil were haphazardly scattered about, left to attract ants and possibly mice, if the holes chewed through them were to be taken at face value. After some shifting around, he pulled out a backpack, stuffed with worn and unwashed clothing and odorously beginning to stink, from under an overturned steel barrel.

Most interesting was the tale told by the disturbances in the dust built on the floor. A single path of overlapping footsteps carved through the building, suggesting that Satoshi had taken the same route in and out of his temporary shelter several times, but elsewhere were scatterings of much larger prints, likely from differently people all in the building at the same time. They lead to overturned equipment and mindless destruction and vandalism, and most ominously, to Satoshi’s bedding.

Shinichi’s jerk impression was that a gang had stumbled their way in and caused chaos, but instinctively, it rang false. From the entire room he received the impression of extreme fear, cruelty, but no anger or amusement, or excitement. Physically, it presented a clear picture of teen vandals; emotionally, it suggested a job preformed with cooler heads and colder hearts, detached and unvested in their actions. More than that, he noted the graffiti was not at all like the style of any of the local gangs and delinquents, and more stereotypical, like what an adult might suspect street art was supposed to look like, rather than what it actually resembled. Whoever made the markings was also likely to be inexperienced with spray-paint, considering the smudging and failure to apply the correct number of layers, and just generally made amateurish mistakes too often to be well practiced.

And the footprints. The marks of the soles had faded, probably four or so days old, but he could still recognize that sneakers did not make them: they were the wrong shape. From the markings he could still distinguish, he assumed they were made with practical business shoes.

Whatever had happened here, it was not gang violence.

Shinichi took detailed pictures of everything, careful to not disrupt as much as possible, before giving the whole building another search, to just ascertain that Satoshi really was gone.

He found nothing more of interest.

And then, suddenly, the Earth began to shake. The whole building seemed to rattle ferociously, foreboding groans of an unsteady structure on the verge of collapse blocking out all other noise. Horrified, he dashed for the exit, deciding that running across unsteady ground and risking tripping and injuring himself was better than remaining in the rickety building any longer, lest the roof cave in on top of him.

When he burst back out into the street, stumbling over his own feet and unsteady with the added weight of his bag, Shinichi froze.

It wasn’t a natural earthquake, he realized. Such an occurrence would be impossible, because the ground was shaking in _interval_ s, a pattern he recognized as _footfalls_ of something really ridiculously gigantic.

Above him, a block away at most and closing steadily, stories high and billowing, was a gargantuan inferno of flame and smoke and what vaguely appeared to be some sort of molten figure underneath the violently red licks of fire. It moved with swinging, humanoid steps that seemed to take a great deal of effort, with moans, more akin to a landslide rumbling than anything a person’s vocal chords could produce, pronouncing every shuddering step.

Seemed like he was right about the impending doom descending upon the city.

But whatever it was, it was making its way towards him.

Meaning, Shinichi had to the hell out of there, _right away._ He sprinted away from the docks and the warehouses, noting that the humongous, walking lava flow must have begun somewhere in the same district, as surely he otherwise would have felt the vibrations in the ground before it could get so close.

Ahead of him, a police car careened around a corner, sirens blaring. For once, Shinichi thanked whatever bad luck constantly attracted law enforcement to him like moths to a lantern, and threw his arms into the air, waving madly.

Screeching to a sudden stop, the car and its occupant barely waited long enough for him to throw open the door and swing himself in before rearing off again, shrieking down the road. The officer behind the wheel was vaguely familiar, and staring between him, the impending disaster, and the street with wide, unnerved eyes.

“Kudo-kun!” The woman grunted, hands tight on the steering wheel.

“Hey,” Shinichi said, cracking a smirk at the driver, before going back to apprising the most recent assailant of the city.

“Hi—No! I mean, grab the radio for me!”

Shinichi snatched up the transceiver of the radio, tuning his focus onto the flurry of words coming through the speakers; thankfully Megure’s voice was mixed in somewhere, barking orders. Recalling the identification of the vehicle he saw for half a moment, he prattled of the car’s ID code into the receiver, before beginning his spiel. “This is Kudo Shinichi, with Traffic Police Sergeant Naeko Miike. Megure-keibu, can you hear me?”

“Kudo-kun! What are you doing—”

“No time for that, Inspector. Tell me, do you have visual on the threat?”

“We’re just arriving now—by god, is that—”

“A giant, walking inferno? It would seem so.” Shinichi replied, worry twisting his gut. The monster, or whatever it was, was without a doubt immensely dangerous, and the city was buzzing with activity at this time of day on the weekends. Thousands of lives, if not millions, were very suddenly in danger.

He unpacked the video camera he used for live streaming broadcasts and deftly turned it on, beginning to film the scene through the window of the still speeding patrol car. The more people made aware of the current situation, whether across the country or just in the city, the better. It was possible people within the danger zone thought the shaking of the Earth was simply an earthquake, like he initially believed, and not some kind of flaming Godzilla leisurely taking a stroll through Haido Park.

“Where are you now, Megure-keibu?”

“The corner of 78th and Teiba!”

“Alright, we’re heading there now!”

“Hold on, Kudo—”

Moments later, Shinichi was bursting out of the vehicle and joining Megure on the sidewalk, blocks away from the monstrosity, camera still running. The inspector raised a disapproving eyebrow, but there was little time for reprimands in this desperate situation.

“We need to broadcast an emergency evacuation notice.” He suggested sternly, but Megure was on the ball.

“Already working on it.” He grunted back, before turning to his men, “Get some copters in the air! I want eyes on this thing!” The Inspector barked, to both the handful of men that accompanied him there and the radio receiver clutched in his fist. It was not exactly in his jurisdiction to demand such a thing, but Shinichi figured that Superintendent Matsumoto was probably already thinking along the same lines.

“Sir,” Takagi called, face creased with worry, communicating with someone over the other radio in the police car, “There’s a helicopter near us right now that the Superintendent wants you on.”

“Good, get it down here.”

Shinichi frowned, eyes still tracking the lumbering, smoking atrocity in the distance. “Wouldn’t it be best if you had cameras up there to broadcast the scene, so people know what's going on? Right now, the whole city is liable to descend into panic.”

Megure eyed him, already knowing what harebrained scheme he was suggesting, but Takagi was less quick on the uptake.

“Yes, but unfortunately, we don’t have time to retrieve the necessary—”

“I’ve got the equipment right here.”

Both police detectives frowned, but there were no other options. The evacuation notice need to be made immediately. There were no further arguments as the descending aircraft whipped the air around them into a frenzy.

* * *

 

From up in the air, the disaster was all the more apparent, and thankfully more observable. Perfect for a live broadcast.

And, of course the whole situation in general was entirely convenient for him. Camcorder out and held steady, directed at the flames below, he began, “This is Kudo Shinichi bringing you live coverage of Tokyo’s newest disaster.  About five minutes ago, fires broke out in a warehouse off of Main Street, quickly escalating into an all out explosion. In the center of the blaze, a huge shadow can be seen but has not yet been identified. I’m here with Megure-keibu, who will now advise us on the emergency protocol of this situation.”

He directed the camera to the Division Head, who nodded curtly and spoke, clearly and authoritatively, “All citizens within three kilometers of this event should immediately evacuate to the nearest shelter. All hospitals and schools have already been contacted and advised. All citizens outside of the immediate radius should remain indoors and keep calm. Please tune in with your local news stations and wait for further information, directions, and police bulletins.”

Shinichi turned the camera to himself to quickly detail the addresses of all shelters within four kilometers for those that were unaware. Outside the helicopter, the fires rose higher and were spreading over to the adjacent buildings as the figure within them stirred. A roar tore through the city, a bellow of animalistic fury and pain, followed by an explosion so furious their transport was knocked backwards by the force of it, teetering in the air. He held desperately to the leather grip above him during the sudden lurch, his grip on the camcorder hard.

When they steadied, he directed the camera back out the window, capturing the image of the great figure rising up from the smoke, standing sixty stories tall and spanning the width of a skyscraper. The flames seemed to cloak it, swathing around it in a fiery shield even as it lurched forward into the street directly. Alongside him, Megure-keibu let out a horrified gasp. “By god…” The flames swirled around, and if not for the obvious form of some kind of humanoid giant underneath the raging red and orange, he would think he was looking at a tornado of energy making its way downtown, towards thousands of undefended citizens.

The pilot in front seemed at a loss of what to do, until Megure directed him to move the helicopter after the maybe-creature. They swung through the air after it, maintaining a hopefully safe distance above it, with Shinichi habitually, unthinkingly narrating the entire scene to his viewers. The blazing figure left behind pools of melted and cracked concrete with every huge, shuddering step. Each time it lifted its foot and put it back down, the whole city seemed to tremble. The smoke and heat rising from its form distorted the air and vision, and Shinichi could feel the hot touch of roaring flame on his face, even inside the helicopter. That… _thing_ was positively blistering, way hotter than a normal house fire.  Luckily the block seemed entirely vacated of all screaming, human life, and now other police helicopters were swinging around, and he could hear the distant sirens of fire trucks on their way.

He didn’t think they would do much good.

But he also believed they wouldn’t be necessary. _Those guys_ were surely on their way already.

But that thought jinxed them, as the creature seemed to take notice of something for the first time; what could have been a head in the center of the blaze turned up, as if looking at the circling helicopters. It groaned, a horrible sound of crackling flame and pain, and lifted a flaming arm.

“Bank right!” Shinichi screamed, and the sheer authority in his voice caused the pilot to jerk the joystick right, bringing their transport into a sharp arc through the air. A trail of fire ripped suddenly through where they were just hovering, the heat singing the helicopter’s side. They had escaped the first attack, but they were not safe yet.

The monster was preparing round two, the flames along its arm pulsating dramatically for another shot.

“Down! Go down!” Shinichi barked, but there was no time. The pilot forced their elevation down a few meters just as a second blast of fire roared towards them, a meteor that would swallow them whole.

The reporter calculated the trajectory. The shot was too high, going to go right over their head, but the rotors were going to be caught in—

He was too late. The fire passed right by the nose of the helicopter, catching the rotors and blasting one off along with a portion of the roof. The helicopter shuddered, and then began to fall, the single rotor left sending them careening through the air as the vehicle spun wildly right, before shutting down completely. They rolled and turned, and Shinichi suddenly wished he had buckled up properly. Thrown from his seat, the whole world spun before his eyes and distantly, he could hear Megure yelling. But then all the colors changed and he was no longer being rattled, as if he was on a rollercoaster, and instead he was freefalling. He plummeted down, face up, and could see the melted, open top of the chopper, and the hole he had apparently slipped right through.

Shit, shit, shit. If only he had a parachute, a glider, _anything_ besides the stupid camcorder in his hand.

Where the hell were those idiots?

He had roughly four seconds before he hit the ground. Shouldn’t his life flash before—

And suddenly, there were arms around him, first falling with him before slowly pressuring, gently reducing their acceleration completely before reverse their direction entirely, heading back up.

A masked girl with long brown hair smiled down him while readjusting her grip, so that she had one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back as they floated upwards. “You alright?” His savior asked, and he almost, _almost_ blushed, because wow, she was always so damn pretty, but managed to keep his expression under control.

“Yeah, but you guys sure took your time getting here.”

She laughed sweetly, and he almost groaned. God, this girl. “Sorry about that. I’m gonna pass you to Hawk, just stay relaxed and loose, alright?”

“Hey, hold on—“

And then he was lurching through the air again as Angel tossed him like he weighed nothing at all. For a moment he was falling again, and then another muscular arm caught his waist. Gruffly, he was pulled tightly against another familiar face. Hanging by line from the usual black jet that served as these guys’ usual transportation was Hawk, while Angel flitted about, moving to catch the still careening helicopter with Megure and pilot inside.

Shifting in Hawk’s grip, he tried to get a better shot of her rescuing the Division One head, but a disapproving noise reminded him to keep still. “Oi, I could drop you.” Hawk reminded, clearly not even remotely pleased with the situation.

“You won’t.” But Shinichi reached up to grip the line supporting them anyway, not particularly interested in relying on Hawk for anything, ever.  He could almost _hear_ the hero’s eyes rolling behind the mask. The jet supporting them slowly drifted through the air, dragging them over a building that was thankfully not on fire and to the creature’s back. Hawk dropped him there none too gently.

“Stay here, don’t move, don’t do anything suicidal, and please, please stay out of the way. I mean it.” Hawk promptly commanded, tossing Shinichi something shaped like a small boomerang, “Use this if you absolutely have, and I mean _have,_ to get off this roof and the stairs aren’t an option. Emergencies only!” It was made to look like a bird, but in reality it was more like a grappling hook gun, as Shinichi knew from experience.

“You said that last time. I know.”

Hawk made a very frustrated and exasperated noise, like a strangled cat. “And you still didn’t listen!” He seemed ready to go on a full out tirade, but a notable explosion in the distance behind him stole his attention away. “Emergencies only! And stay here! At the end of this, if this building is still standing, I better find you on top of it!” He was still shouting even at the black plane pulled away from the rooftop, back towards the battle, and his voice faded out, no doubt still fussing. Knowing the hero wouldn’t see it, Shinichi took great deal of pleasure in rolling his eyes as dramatically as he could manage.

As if, there was reporting of the truth to be done.

 

 


	2. Would You Fight For Me

The buzzing in the back of his mind focused him, sharpening his vision and hearing to the point where the city flowing beneath him was startlingly clear in perfect, vibrant clarity. The scent of burning asphalt and smoke was thick in his lungs, only a slight hint of the more recognizable human scent he was familiar with remaining. The ordinary odors of the city were nearly entirely lost beneath the overwhelming stench of ash and burning.

Saguru gripped the line connecting him to the jet all the tighter, alarms blaring within his head. The endless instinctual whisper of _warning, warning, warning_ was nearly nauseating.

The massive, burning creature that was carving its way further into the city was well beyond his pay grade, and his danger sense made sure he knew it, blaring like sirens reverberating through his skull. Adrenaline was already coursing through his veins, but there was little he could do but shift his gaze around, searching for wayward citizens. Evidently, Shinichi's evacuation broadcast had been effective, and the area in closest proximity to the monster was entirely abandoned, and the blocks further out were quickly emptying, panicked and apprehensive citizens fleeing away from the mobile volcano bearing down upon them.

Heliopause swept up alongside him, mouth turned in a ferocious scowl. "We need a way to stop that thing. If it keeps moving, it'll reach the higher population areas."

If such a huge, heat-radiating threat entered into the actual population dense areas of Tokyo, it would be a complete disaster. In a way, the emergence of this freak from the sparsely inhabited warehouse district had been a blessing.

"Considering its current pace, it'll reach the center of Tokyo in the hour. We have to stop it here, but where is it going? What's it after?" He wondered aloud, wishing for a way to deduce such answers. Unfortunately, psychoanalysis was rather difficult when the subject was obviously more disaster than human, and somehow he doubted he would be able investigate this particular crime scene all that thoroughly at a later time.

Maybe Shinichi's footage could be useful when it eventually came to that, but for now, he needed to focus on the battle ahead.

As if Hattori knew that his mind had raced too far ahead, Hattori snarled. "Like that matters right now!" Furious and reckless as ever, Hattori was streaking away in a blur of black towards the foe an instant later, light pulsating from his form. The blazing abomination took notice of the incoming assailant immediately, with whatever eyes or senses it apparently had, and turned its attention away from the fleeing helicopters buzzing in the air above. With a great, laborious movement, it hefted up an arm and launched another meteorite-like projectile, straight into the hotheaded hero's flight path. With barely even a pause, Hattori launched his own attack right back, yellow energy enveloping his hands and bursting forward. The force of the energy strike scattered the molten rock into dust, and Hattori shot right on through.

"Take this, ya overgrown campfire!" He roared, a second blast erupting from his hands and into the creature's head—or at least what seemed to be its head. The whole figure shuddered backwards but did not collapse, and instead surged forward anew, with a ferocious, earth-shaking shriek.

It swung its blazing arms forward, straight at its assailant, who had clearly moved in far too close. Hattori was his hit hard with was essentially equated to a falling _mountain,_ and was shot backwards like bullet amidst dust and rubble into the surrounding cityscape.

"Oh hell no!" Someone shouted, a ghostly figure sweeping alongside the side of monstrosity while it was distracted. From her mouth burst forth a terrible, sharp, ear-piercing scream that made even the far-off Saguru shudder and hastily activate the noise cancelling function of the comms in his ears. His super-senses did not mix well with Banshee's own abilities; thankfully, Prof. Sun had invented a sort of cancellation device to prevent Saguru from being deafened by his own teammate. The monster had no such support, and flinched backwards with a horrible moan, aborting its attack to attempt to cover what would be its ears if it had a more humanoid form.

"Now, Tsuyu!" Saguru yelled into his communicator. "We need you now!"

"I need more time!" The girl responded, strain making her voice tight over the line. Inwardly, he cursed, they didn't have _more_ time! If they had been more prepared for...whatever _this_ was from the start, this battle and the ensuing chaos would long be over already. The Overseers had warned them of an impending attack on Tokyo, but not even their best informants could seem to pinpoint exactly what kind of threat was about to strike, or where, or how, or who was responsible. They knew nothing specifically, the few clairvoyants in the organization had been unable to discern anything, but technically, since they did have _a_ warning of sorts, they had time to prep. Which meant, failure was unacceptable.

But this wasn't within the parameters of any of their expectations.

Still, they could do this. Or rather, they had to.

"Angel, can you take that thing head-on?" Saguru asked, and Ran's melodious voice came echoing back to him over the hum of the comm.

"For a couple minutes, maybe!"

The monster had recovered from Kazuha's sonic screams, but so had Hattori, having peeled himself from the crumbled skyscraper wall that he'd been smashed into like a swatted fly. Ran was now flitting around alongside the Osakan hero, who was smoking with power and fury, and together they wound around the fiery strikes the disaster rained down. While they managed to avoid being struck while showering their own attacks upon it, the wild waving of the inferno's arms and the small comets that shot from it were tearing apart the surrounding city. A single strike crushed sturdy, stout building as if they were made of plastic building blocks rather than stone and metal.

This couldn't go on; just the damage alone was intolerable.

And he had left Shinichi on one of those buildings.

A rush of fear rushed down his back, compounding the ringing in his head. "It's destroying everything! You have to stop it!" He barked at the other two, feeling helpless. He could pilot the jet, armed with missiles and turrets, but there was too much of a risk of those striking their surroundings instead of the enemy if he dared shoot them. And that was a debilitating lawsuit waiting to happen. And they had all seen what that thing had done to the helicopter.

Equally frustrated, Hattori snapped right back. "Easier said than done!" But he shot forwards anyway, streaking up underneath the beast's arm as it descended upon a building that was, for the moment, still standing. Rippling with power so bright Saguru had to look away, he caught the arm plummeting down upon him head on.

It was a completely, utterly _idiotic_ plan, considering Hattori didn't have any sort of super strength. Thankfully, Ran, who _did_ , was there to back him up. They made a good team against such an opponent, both solar fueled but with different results. Ran absorbed sunlight and became a sort of battery, and the energy granted her super-strength, flight, and near-invulnerability. She was an absolute powerhouse, capable of sending opponents twenty times her size flying half a block with a single punch. But the heat radiating off the creature would be a problem even for her, sapping her energy as her powers struggled to keep her from burning right up.

Hattori, on the other hand, being an absolute hothead, only grew stronger from contact with the blazing inferno. He burned hotter than almost everything, all the power of a dwarf star packed underneath his skin, and practically altering him into living plasma carefully contained in human form. He even had his own gravity, and was so dense that he could take even the harshest of hits without injury.

But though they could take the monster's blows, and bat it around right back, they had no way to actually stop the thing. Together, Ran physically shoving, and Hattori firing magnesium-bright plasma blasts in a constant stream above his head, they managed to turn back the monster's arm, sending the whole inferno toppling backwards.

_Idiots._

The sixty-story tall and _tons_ heavy creature came down like a lava-hot rockslide, crashing back on the street with a force that shook the whole city. Its waving arms smashed two stout buildings on the way down, reducing them to mounds of melted rubble and bubbling concrete.

Saguru told them to _stop_ further destruction of the city, so _of course_ they went and caused some more. Why not? Instead of pointing out their mistake, he focused on what could be done right then and left tearing them apart to later. "Banshee, keep it down!" At his order, Kazuha came bouncing back into the battle, pin-balling between half-collapsed buildings and rippling with gathered energy.

"Ya got it!" She chirped back, before taking a very deep breath. Knowing what was coming next, he reactivated the noise cancelers in his ears, just before she let out a long, deafening wail.

Again the city shuddered, but this time with the force of her prolonged sonic scream, and the downed monster screamed right back, like an erupting volcano, all noise, ash, and collapsing rock, as it writhed in pain.

When her wail broke off, out of breath, the fallen creature seemed to slump in relief. A sharp intake was the only warning it got before the torture resumed, another horrible screech bursting from her lungs.

"Alright, I'm almost there!" Aoko's voice came through over the comm, tight but determined. In an instant, all three of the heroes pulled away from their opponent, shooting further up in the air. "Here is comes!"

First, they heard the roar of a torrential downpour or rumbling waterfall. Then, like a tsunami thundering across the coast, a great mass of water burst onto the street from the East. Black, brown and crested with white, the wall of seawater crashed over the giant blaze in a flurry of steam and swirling waves. In the center of the chaotic surf rose a figure in blue and white, her soaking wet hair clinging to her neck and face as her hands cut through the air like a maestro conducting.

At Aoko's direction, the water swirled and swelled up, spinning viciously around the stunned fire colossus, until the waterspout stood over two hundred meters high and a quarter as wide. The vortex entrapped the howling monster, an entire river's worth of water pouring down upon its searing hot form, as steam billowed upwards into the forming Cumulonimbus cloud above. But the condensation funnel did not abate. Its mistress may have been straining to control so much water with precision, but she was determined all the same.

Aoko was that kind of person; once she set her mind on something, she would pursue it with everything she had and then some. Stubborn to a fault and as unstoppable as the tide, she created a disaster of her own right in the downtown streets, having forcibly carried the water kilometers to this point entirely by herself.

It was an impressive feat; one she had never performed before. Most days she only manipulated a couple gallons of water that she had to carry with her, or pulled from pipes or fountains. At most, on a particularly crazy day, she wielded enough to fill a pool, but _this_ , _this_ was definitely the furthest she had ever pushed her powers.

They all could only stare as the inferno was slowly extinguished inside the tornado of water, leaving behind a charred black giant. As the water descended down, so did what remained of the monster, crumbling in on itself like charcoal in an ash pit.

It was over.

And Aoko collapsed boneless to the ground, chest heaving with rasping breaths.

"Tsuyu!" Ran yelled, panicked, as she shot towards the other heroine, who laughed weakly over the comm.

"I'm okay. Just—" She gasped for breath between each word. "Just exhausted."

He couldn't blame her, but there was one problem with that.

She didn't have the energy to control the water anymore.

The waterspout, which had been slowly slackening under her direction, suddenly broke down, pouring down in a torrential rain of filthy water. Ran shot forward and snatched Aoko off the street before the flood hit, washing over their collapsed foe with the force and mass of a broken dam. Whatever remained of the giant dissolved into sludge as tainted seawater rushed down and through the streets, over the rubble and filling the buildings that had managed to remain standing.

To be frank, it was a disgusting mess. The water damage alone would take weeks to repair.

And most of that water, and the monster it had defeated, would gradually flow right into the sewage system. Saguru couldn't even guess what sort of contaminates were in it, but certainly they were bad enough to considered an ecological disaster of their own right.

With a sigh, he directed the jet back to the building where he had left a certain reporter. It was still standing, and surprisingly, Shinichi was still there, watching his approach with keen eyes and armed with a camera and microphone.

Oh god. He should just turn the jet around and _run_ , but no doubt would Shinichi write a particularly scalding editorial about _that_ if he did.

So he took a deep breath and prepared himself to face an onslaught of questions that would probably be sharper and more piercing than arrows.

At least the other had done as he said and had remained there—no, wait he hadn't. There was a distinct sheen of sweat on Shinichi's brow and a flush in his cheeks. Shinichi had been busy, buzzing around the area for the best action shots, evidently, and only returned here to for a chance to put Saguru on trial.

Great. Just great.

"That was quite the spectacle," Shinichi said blandly as Saguru dropped down on to the roof. He was looking distinctly unimpressed, but Saguru knew that that was more his resting face than anything else; or rather, Shinichi Kudo spent his entire life rather unimpressed and unenthused by the people around him.

"These things tends to be flashy." Saguru tried to say dismissively, but it came out flat. Shinichi gave him a baleful look, and lowered the camera.

Saguru struggled to not openly slump in relief.

No, wait—Shinichi turned on his heel and went over to the big shoulder bag he left with that morning, pulling out pieces of a tripod.

"Care for an interview?" Shinichi smirked, and Saguru wanted to balk and back out, but held his ground instead. They had done this countless times before, Saguru would never forget the first time: when he was twelve and an amateur and really shouldn't have left his boss's side as often as he did, and found himself cornered by his own boss's sharp-eyed son. The aftermath of that graceless interview would have been far more disastrous had Shinichi been a more reputable reporter at the time, instead of a kid with too many resources at his fingertips.

Instead, he flashed a smile of his own, forcing up the confident air he wore when on a case. God, he would take a good mystery over this right now. "Apologies, but I really must decline." He tried to make the denial sound as casual as possible, as if he wasn't that intimidated little kid anymore.

Shinichi sighed through his nose and set up the tripod with quick, practiced movements. Thankfully, his bright eyes were turned away, back to the desolated cityscape.

For a moment, Saguru counted himself lucky that Shinichi didn't push the issue.

He should have known better. Because when he looked behind him, he saw Hattori blazing towards them like a particularly vibrant rocket.

Great. Just what he needed right now.

Hattori touched down on the roof, completely ignoring Saguru's not-so-subtle gestures to _beat it_. He was still blazing, his form burning so hot it warped the air so it rippled like cloth.

"Yo, Kudo! Saw ya take a dive there! Ya alright?" Hattori asked, cementing himself as an epitome of sensitivity, and still ignoring Saguru entirely.

"Just fine, thanks to Angel," Shinichi replied, taking the comment with his usual grace, meaning Hattori got a look so scalding it made plasma blasts seem cold. "Seems like one of you can do something right, at least."

Saguru nearly groaned aloud, because he knew exactly where this was going, and Hattori pulled back, shoulders shooting up defensively. "That's that supposed to mean? We beat the monster, didn't we?" The issue with hotheads, Saguru felt, was that they were predictable. They were easy to lead, because they reacted to things emotionally before critical thinking could catch up to them. And Hattori Heiji, for all his intelligence, was first and foremost an absolute hothead.

Shinichi clicked his camera into place on the tripod, and cut in, "and leveled two blocks, flooded at least five streets, and no doubt washed away any and all evidence of what that thing was and what it was after." Hattori seethed at the words, but Saguru had to admit that there was a good point there. It would be difficult to retrieve whatever remained of the hellish creature, considering even the initial sludge had been swept away in the torrential downpour. The Overseers probably would want samples for testing, and Saguru was going to have to look his seniors in the eyes and tell them to check the sewers.

"Come on, we stopped that thing! Without us, that thing would have stomped all over Tokyo!"

"Oh really? It seems like about seven minutes into the battle, Angel and you knocked over the monster and caused an immense amount of property damage, particularly to the Higo Foods storage facility. How do you intend to apologize to the building's owners and the people who worked there?" Of course Shinichi hadn't missed that. Shinichi didn't miss _anything._

"Hey now, we were savin' the city! The beast would have destroyed it on its own anyway!" It didn't take a detective to tell that Hattori's temper was mounting. The air around them even turned notably warmer.

Shinichi, though, didn't even sweat in the face of an angry human solar flare. It took more than a couple degrees to melt this iceberg, apparently. "Maybe, but there were at least seven other strategies you could have pursued to avoid the additional destruction. Why didn't—"

"We had to do _something!_ "

"Tell that to the people." And there it was. The trap snapped shut, and Hattori was hooked. And Saguru was way too exhausted to stop it.

"Fine! I will! Turn that thing on right now!" Hattori shouted, pointing at the camera, which Shinichi quickly flicked on with a satisfied smirk. Shinichi held out the microphone to Hattori, who tried to reel himself back in before he ended up growling at thousands of viewers.

"Heliopause here to tell y'all that the city is safe." He started, first, before pausing to cough. Saguru made the note to have everybody check their lungs once they returned to base. They all probably inhaled their fair share of smoke. "Downtown got a bit messed up, and we're real sorry about the damages. We're sorry the facility got crushed, but we did what we had to do to save everybody's lives. Everybody can work together to handle the aftermath after, but in battle, we had to take that thing down before it could hurt anybody else!" Hattori turned towards him. Don't do it, don't do it—"Right, Hawk?" And the idiot did it.

Shinichi turned the camera and microphone Saguru's way, only the slight turning of his lips giving away his amusement.

Saguru coughed as well, to cover his dismay. He could tell they were both laughing at him.

"Yes, that it correct." He said into the microphone, carefully looking into the camera's lens. "The Overseers with release an official statement at a later time, but for now I can say this: Tokyo is once again safe for its populace. We, the Irregulars, are here to protect the people." It was a good, neutral statement. Years of practice at work.

Satisfied, Shinichi pulled back the microphone and turned towards the camera himself. "Thank you very much, gentlemen. This is Kudo Shinichi with an exclusive interview with the Irregulars, stay tuned for a complete report on today's catastrophe."

It took Hattori a solid fifteen seconds to catch up and realize what happened, before he stumbled out of the camera's view, dragging Saguru with him. "Damn. He tricked me again, didn't he?"

Saguru took a page out of Shinichi's book and didn't ever dignify that with a response. "Just get in the damn jet."

There really was nothing else to say.

* * *

They returned to base together, all slumped in their designated seats in the jet. It had been a tiresome battle for most, but Saguru was fine: he'd spent almost the entire time rescuing civilians who had gotten caught up in the wreckage. Even as the jet pulled into the base's hangar, he was still buzzing with unspent energy.

The Night Baron was waiting for them in the hangar, face hidden behind the perpetually grinning white mask. It was impossible to guess at his mood, but knew that would be true whether the mask was on or off: Yuusaku was a man that thrived on leaving people wondering.

"Mission complete, sir," Saguru said, as the rest of the team filed out of the plane at a snail's pace, obviously exhausted. They lined up before the boss, barely managing to stand at attention. Aoko kept tilting to one side, barely keeping on her feet, and Hattori was visibly slouching, a dazed look about him. Ran and Kazuha were comparatively more energetic, but that didn't mean much when the competition were practically dead on their feet.

The Baron gave them each a long look, before reaching up and slipping off the mask, revealing an easy smile. "Good work. I'm glad to see you all back uninjured." For such a high-stakes battle, they had come off easy this time. Only Ran and Hattori had taken a hit, and thanks to their advanced durability, the most they had suffered were a couple bruises and burns. If any of the rest of them had gotten hit by the burning-hot monster, they'd probably be dead.

"Yessir. No damage to the jet either." Saguru pointed out.

Yuusaku nodded, looking pleased, though Saguru couldn't even hazard a guess at whether he was genuine or not. "Good, good. Alright, full debrief in the conference room in thirty minutes. Take a rest and get something to drink, alright?"

The team notably relaxed at those words, happily stumbling off to go collapse on whatever couch or comfortable-enough looking surface they could each find. Saguru knew better to relax, the easier Yuusaku went on them directly after a mission, the harder he'd be on them a little later. Before any of them could get to far, he called after them sternly, "and I want everyone to remember to visit the med room for a lung check!"

A chorus of affirmative grunts were thrown back at him, and Saguru and Yuusaku watched them go with measuring eyes. As soon as the rest of the team was gone from sight, Yuusaku turned Saguru's way with a more grave expression.

"Initial report?"

"It was a messy battle. Hattori and Ran—" Yuusaku raised an eyebrow. "I mean, Heliopause and Angel made some rash decisions in the middle of battle, but for the most part handled themselves well against a foe over a hundred times their size. Still, Heliopause's temper and his showing off detracted from his contribution, and Angel still has a tendency to act first, think later." Personally, Saguru felt they had done well, on such limited time, information, and manpower. Teams of their size and age weren't usually capable of taking such disaster-level threats head-on. But he couldn't let pride blind him to their faults. "Banshee did well incapacitating the opponent at the right times, but still needs to remember to warn me before she screams. Tsuyu did remarkably well, considering her inexperience, but not well enough. She couldn't hold it together until the very end. We need to work on her endurance."

Yuusaku nodded, before giving Saguru a scrutinizing look. "And you?"

"Need to show better blow-by-blow leadership. If I was more quick to call the shots, almost everything I just said could have been avoided." Often, in the middle of battle, his senses got so keyed up that he wasted time absorbing it all. As a result, he tended to default back to silently observing his enemies, a habit long ingrained from acting as the Night Baron's sidekick, instead of directing his team.

It was an honest self-critique, one that seemed to satisfy Yuusaku. There was even a slight smile pulling at his mentor's lips, which did make Saguru feel better about the day's events. "Alright. Take a break, and then come back with the others. We'll talk about the rest then."

The conference room was Spartan in design and ominous in its size. Large, expansive, but mostly empty, it had harsh lights and walls lined with monitors, and single, long silver table around which they sat in hard chairs. In the front of the room was one large screen, big enough to span nearly from wall to wall.

It was also the least liked room in the entire base, but Yuusaku, for some reason, seemed fond of it. And Saguru had not doubt that Shinichi would love the spacious, minimalistic practicality, not to mention the tech: hell, maybe that was why Yuusaku liked it.

For the most part, the mission debriefing went as usual, with each member of the team taking a turn to outline his or her contributions and reflections. For the most part they all had a good grasp on their own strengths and weaknesses, and well, Hattori and Kazuha were all too eager to point out each other's flaws. Breaking up that resulting argument had been a chore and a half.

And then Yuusaku, instead of taking the floor and critiquing them to hell and back, picked up a remote and pressed a single button.

Before them, the room-spanning screen lit up, revealing the familiar image of Shinichi, armed with a microphone, standing before a crumbling cityscape. One of his webcasted breaking news reports, and going by the time stamp at the top, the footage was as recent as an hour ago.

On camera, Shinichi's eyes were piercing, and his voice strong and clear. "Damages are currently estimated to be in the millions, if not billions." In the top right corner, a box displayed footage of the extensive damage dealt to the roads downtown. It was hard to imagine that the rubble on screen had been the same buildings they had seen standing earlier just hours before. "How this event will affect the upcoming elections, particularly the Vigilante and Crime Insurance policy debates, has yet to be seen. Without a doubt, we can expect this battle to be discussed by both fronts of the Proposition 38 debate, as well." The footage shown then changed to a scene Saguru remembered much more vividly: a great black jet hovering in the air above the city, and a trio of figures flitting about the molten golem. The angles kept shifting to display different clips of the fight, and part of Saguru wanted to groan in exasperation. Shinichi must have been hopping from building to building throughout the catastrophe; probably using the very same grappling hook Saguru had gave him. And, he couldn't help but notice the shots centered on the white-pink blur that was Angel more often than not.

Shinichi, continuing his report, didn't seem sheepish about it at all. "The sponsor of the Irregulars, the Night Baron, and the International Hero Society, aka the Overseers, have yet to release statements on the actions taken today." As a group, the five of them turned to look at Yuusaku, who was watching his son's report with an easy smile. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Several apartment buildings were caught in the crossfire here today, leaving an estimated three thousand people without homes. The Disaster Recovery Charity has set up temporary shelters for the victims in the Shiodome Arena and the Marin's Coffee Convention Center. The destruction of countless other buildings has left many others without jobs or support. The Sumida River's water level has also dropped several centimeters due to the actions of Tsuyu, the most recent addition to the Irregulars." Next to him, Aoko shifted uncomfortably, as the footage changed to show her, a small figure clad in blue, and the great wave of black-grey water rushing behind her. There was something stunning about the shot of her in the midst of battle, wielding actual tons of water with precision and overwhelming power. She didn't look like an amateur or a newbie: she looked like a full-fledged superhero.

Shinichi's voice, unwavering and neutral, went on. "The water will likely have to undergo extensive decontamination and purification, and even afterwards, it is unlikely that it will be returned to its original water source. The ecological ramifications of this are as of yet unknown." As the report went on, each teenager began to gradually slump in their seats, abashed. Damage reports were always demoralizing, but this one was particularly rough.

"Alright, I think that's enough." Ran said, muting the sound. On screen, the report continued on, Shinichi's mouth opening and closing soundlessly, as they all turned to look at her. "I think we've all got a good idea of what we did good and bad this time."

"Excellent catch with my son. Not so excellent catch with the Higo Foods facility." Yuusaku summed up, perfectly. Ran and Hattori shifted uncomfortably, but Saguru was sure that they could turn the frustration and shame into something productive. "Aoko-kun, you did very good work today. Very impressive. However, when using such a risky tactic, you have to follow through. Either do it right, or don't do it at all." It was harsh, but Saguru couldn't disagree with the reprimand. When heroes took risks and failed, people who might not have been in the line of fire at all got hurt. As interfering parties, they were responsible for the consequences of their every action.

Aoko flushed, unused to the attention. Saguru gave her his best encouraging smile, which she returned weakly.

"Still, all in all, a much better show than the previous mission." Collectively, they all winced. Saguru didn't want to even think of their disastrous attempt at catching Kaitou KID. He still hadn't figured out just how the thief had jacked the jet, let alone managed to weasel through the state of the art electronic security system that assaulted even the Taskforce and the Irregulars themselves. It hadn't just been humiliating, but the jewels had yet to be returned. Considering KID's returns were usually almost immediate, he had probably pocketed this most recent haul for good.  
Which turned Saguru's mind to the other matter that he'd been mulling over.

When the dismissal was given, the others were quick to make their separate getaways. Saguru, though, hung back once again, which didn't seem to surprise Yuusaku at all. Casually, his mentor settled down as the table, steepling his fingers together.

"Shall we go over the heist again?" He asked, but Saguru shook his head.

"That won't be necessary, sir. But it is related to what I wish to speak with you about."

Yusaku pressed his lips together. It was a telling expression, one that suggested that he'd been expecting this, but not looking forward to it. "Alright, what is it?"

"Kaitou KID's identity, sir."

Saguru's mentor took a long breath through his nose. Those were the words he probably heard more often than he'd like. "We can't do anything without proof, Saguru-kun. Unless we catch him in the act, it's out of our hands. You know the Overseers' regulations are very tight." Too tight, Saguru sometimes felt. He'd been raised to be respectful of rules and the law, but like any self-respecting teenager, Saguru had his own issues with authority.

But that wasn't the point, not now. "I understand that, sir. But it's important that the team at least _know._ "

"Ah, this is about Aoko-kun." And there it was: the elephant in the room.

"Yes. Aoko-kun still doesn't acknowledge it." Saguru had suggested it to her more times than he could count. Casually, directly, cryptically: he'd tried every method he could think of to open Aoko's eyes to the truth. But something like pure-hearted faith, or maybe just denial, had made getting through to her practically impossible.

"She doesn't believe that her long time friend is a wanted criminal without evidence. It's understandable." Understandable wasn't necessarily the word Saguru would use.

"Yes," he agreed anyway. "That's why I ask that _you_ tell her it's the truth. She might not believe it coming from me, but…" Saguru trailed off, letting the request stand for itself. Yuusaku turned in his chair, looking over at the screen, which was frozen on a still frame of his son. For a moment, they both said nothing.

Finally, though, Yuusaku looked back at him, with a grave expression. "You are worried that she may have a conflict of interest and jeopardize a mission?"

"Yessir." That was just one of his concerns. "And her continued interactions with him. He's been using her as a source of information on police activity, and sometimes even an easy in through security, for over a year. It's also a security concern. All of our identities are at risk, if they haven't been revealed already." Nothing quite induced paranoia like being in the same homeroom as a potentially dangerous, and possibly insane, criminal. Not that it was ever _just_ paranoia when it came to the Kaitou KID. It wasn't paranoia when the thief really might jump him, shove him in small bag, and the flawlessly replace him with a clever disguise at any given moment.

Yuusaku nodded, and his eyes were hard and merciless. That gaze made even Saguru nervous, so he couldn't help but pity the poor fools that found themselves faced with the Night Baron on a cold, moonless night. "To be specific he's made her an unwitting accomplice in over thirty cases this year."

That caught Saguru by surprise. "You've already investigated this?"

"Of course." Well, he should probably have expected it. He'd never beaten Yuusaku in an investigation before. "And I agree, it has to stop. When KID is eventually caught, and his identity revealed, Inspector Nakamori will be lucky to get away with just being fired."

Saguru couldn't help but perk up. "So you'll speak with her?"

"Actually, I have another idea." He didn't like the smile Yuusaku flashed, not one bit. It made the Night Baron's grin look positively friendly.

* * *

News Advisories arrived in his mail everyday, cramming both the mailbox and his public email, and his work phone seemed to be constantly buzzing. Due to the constant influx of requests, he was forced to keep it on silent while in school, with an answering message instructing eager informants to leave a message with their pitch.

He usually responded to the ones that sound interesting immediately after soccer practice. Which was easy, because those were not as common as he would like. But that wasn't really a problem either, since he was inevitably bound to trip over some crime or scandal or something on his way home anyway.

Honestly, it was a miracle he made it to school at all, to be entirely honest.

Today, though, was Sunday, the day following the disaster, and there was already a total of six inviting him to cover the cleanup and disaster recovery operations beginning downtown. Normally, he would leave these cleanup jobs to the professional press, but as he was heading down anyway, he felt he might as well live stream the damage and encourage voluntary relief efforts from his viewers.

But standing before the melted rubble of what was once a street, camcorder in hand, the rush of terror that swept over him knocked his breath out like a punch to the gut. The anxiousness and dread that tinged the air and the cement was nearly overwhelming.

He sorted the feeling, categorized it. A raw sort of terror lingered in the air, matched only by the stench of soot, char, and melted asphalt; the fear of people staring up at something much larger and more dangerous than themselves, bearing down on them like an exterminator descending upon an anthill. More recently, adult worries radiated from the broken glass of the remainder of a shop window, the owner's concerns and despair over the loss of his only source of income spreading through Shinichi's fingers as he leant down to investigate the door, which seemed to have been forced open by someone much smaller than the monstrosity of yesterday.

Someone looted the place in the wake of the smoldering creature. They stepped on the glass and walked it into the wrecked shop, and the tables and pots were overturned in a way that is too unnatural to be the result of the earthquakes. Clearly much of what he presumed was valuable has been taken, based upon the empty shelves and disorganized desk.  
He made these observations aloud, before stepping back into the harsh sunlight outside. Like the bright lights of an autopsy room, the sun seemed to bear down upon the desolate scene with uncaring harshness, reducing human tragedy to just another turn of the cycle of life and death.

Shinichi kept walking. This portion of the city was buzzing quietly with drawn faces and vain efforts to shift through the remains of what were once livelihoods. To his left a group of young college students, volunteers, moved chunks of molten asphalt with tremendous effort, while business owners tried to piece their door frames together and salvage anything left over.

To his right, in the shadows of the damaged buildings, there were others tucked into the alleys, peering out into the harsh sunlight with dark, furious eyes. He was careful catching them on camera, making sure that while they lingered in the background of his shots, they never seemed to be the focus. Best not to bring too much of their attention on to him.  
He continued to trek along the edges of the line of the destruction, the immense footsteps sunk into the road like it was made of sand, not asphalt, occasionally pausing to interview the others lingering on the scene; dislocated city dwellers who no longer had homes, local students setting up water stands, the construction workers moving in to clear up the roads as much as they could.

They all had the same things to say; they always did. Disaster struck in this city far, far too often. Only a certain amount of desensitization and pure faith, maybe even foolishness, kept most people living here. Well, that and the terrible economy.  
No doubt some incredibly high claims of the supernatural disaster and empowered malicious crime insurance were pending. Taxes would be upped too. The FDA would have to test the local bay to make sure the contaminated runoff hadn't made fishing in the waters into a poison hazard, so there was a potential another thousand jobs lost.

It was emotionally exhausting just to think about all the consequences of a few hours of terror. There was a certain difficulty to sorting through the pain, compartmentalizing it, when all of it felt so far out of his control.

But thinking of what he came here to do and focusing on his objective helped; it was always easier to tackle problems one knew how to go about solving.

And that's why he followed the destruction all the way to the end, until he found the start, deep in the warehouse district. Only there did the destruction lead away.

This was where the monster first appeared. The area had been reduced to nothing but rubble studded with steel reinforcements and the remains of tattered buildings, a large crater in the center spanning seventy meters across. The surrounding buildings had all suffered, most completely caved in, and other with huge chunks blasted out of them, as if the monster had been swinging madly around.

By sight alone he couldn't decipher what the area had originally held, but the map app on his phone landed his position in the center of a factory belonging to some computer manufacturing company, TQ Electronics. Just blocks away from the warehouse he had been in yesterday—

In fact, according to the map, Satoshi's warehouse was directly in the line of destruction the monster had carved. Shinichi stared at his phone, and then checked the area again, a strange idea forming in his mind. The path the monster had taken through the city was strange: it didn't seem random, but didn't look entirely deliberate or planned either.

Shinichi investigated the area for a while longer, but there wasn't much he could find on his own in the wreckage. Which left one place left to go.

The route he had walked yesterday hadn't changed much, most of area being thankfully spared despite being so close to the disaster zone. That itself was a relief, he felt, as he looked up at the same dilapidated dwelling he'd been in just a little over twenty-four hours before.

Daichi met Shinichi at the entrance. "Figured you'd be back, after what happened yesterday." He grumbled, his arms crossed. He stood in the doorway like guard, but Shinichi paid it no mind, recognizing posturing for what it was.

"Is everyone alright?" Shinichi asked, peering around Daichi's larger form, trying to gauge the situation. For the most part, the quakes of yesterday seemed to have only disturbed some dust. At least, there was no sign of the ceiling caving in.

Daichi looked him in the eye and glared. His interest was clearly unappreciated."Yeah, the worst we got were a couple shakes. The kids were scared, but nobody got hurt."

"That's good." It was a relief to hear. Even if the golem hadn't trekked over this area, all it would take to endanger the residents of a dilapidated place like this was a good, long earthquake.

"Yep. Now leave." Daichi's voice was hard and sharp. He held his composure well, but not well enough. Shinichi could see the sweat on his brow, and the uneasy shifting of his stance. He was even more unhinged than yesterday.

"Not until you tell me what has you so scared." Shinichi said, resolute, and Daichi flinched slightly under his gaze. As tough as the other teen was, Daichi was still young, and still vulnerable, with a lot of younger kids counting on him. That kind of pressure and constant fear could break anyone down. Daichi's defenses crumbled easily in the face of interrogation.  
"A fu—fricken' volcano just trampled everything a couple blocks over." Daichi tried, correcting his language out of habit crafted from endlessly trying to be a better influence, but his voice shook. His eyes were darting around, no longer able to keep eye contact.

"You were scared before that too." Shinichi pushed, sternly looking Daichi in the face. Backing down from this wasn't an option.

"Look, you're just here about that kid, right? I told you everything I know."

"I went to the warehouse. He wasn't there, but someone else had been. A group of professionals that roughed the place up, and as I suspect, took him." For what, Shinichi had every intention of figuring out. But the ideas already forming in his head were unnerving enough on their own.

Daichi flinched openly, face pale, and Shinichi forced his shoulders back down. With a softer, but still firm voice, he continued, "I know you, Daichi-san. Kids don't just disappear under your watch." Shinichi wasn't blind, he hadn't missed the scars scattered across Daichi's fists, arms, and face, not even on the first day they met. Scars like that only came from street fighting, taking too many hits without the proper protection or medical care afterwards. There was no doubt in his mind about what Daichi fought for. "And considering how anxious you are, I'm guessing that this isn't the first runaway that's suddenly disappeared." Daichi flinched again, teeth clenched and hands fisted. Pain lingered in the twists of his expression, and in the wet edges of his eyes. Shinichi's heart sunk. Not only was he right on the mark, but it seemed the situation was even worse than he originally thought. "How many, Daichi-san?"

For a moment, the question hung between them like a discarded cinderblock plummeting to the bottom of the ocean: heavy, slow, but inevitable. Daichi took a harsh breath, looking wrecked. The broken expression made him look years younger. "I—I don't know. Six, from this area. And others, from all across the city. Thirty, maybe forty, tops, from what I've heard on the streets."

Forty kids.

Forty vulnerable kids were snatched off the streets.

Shinichi had to take a breath, too, as horror twisted in his gut. Sort, compartmentalize, focus on the objective, he told himself, pushing away the horrible feelings that suddenly kept rushing in from Daichi, the building, the city itself. Disconnect.

"And since all these kids were technically already missing, you've got nothing for the police." He said once he'd gathered himself, and Daichi nodded, like he'd given up entirely.

"They wouldn't believe us anyway. Nobody has seen anyone get taken, and they leave nothing behind." No witnesses and no evidence. That meant only one thing: professionals, probably paid. But possibly not hired. Jobs like this weren't the kind of thing that freelancers could be trusted to keep quiet about.

"Were most of these kids taken from where they were staying?" Shinichi asked. If he could get to each crime scene, he might be able to notice something nobody else had, especially since it seemed unlikely anyone but a couple of scared, inexperienced kids had checked over each site.

"We don't know—probably. A lot of places have been burning down recently. A warehouse a few districts over went up in flames just a couple weeks ago. I know a group had been living there, but haven't heard from them since."

Missing persons, kidnapping, arson possibly committed by some organized crime group covering their tracks, and some connection to the destruction of a quarter of downtown. Just thinking about it made his blood pound.

"When did this start happening?"

"I don't know. The first one from here disappeared four months ago." Four months. That was a long time for kids to be missing, and an even longer time for a crime scene to sit undisturbed. Nevertheless, he had to try.

"I'm going to need names and places; and if you can't tell me them, I need you to tell me where to find someone who can."

* * *

The conversation from the day before weighed heavily on his mind. Yuusaku had said he'd think it over, but that didn't put Saguru at ease. It was frustrating, going to school six days out of the week, and having to face a wanted villain that sat in his classroom, spoke with his classmates, and mocked his teachers. Everyday, his skin crawled as he sat at his desk, knowing he was showing his back to one of the world's most clever criminals. Just attending class was an act that required constant vigilance and awareness of his surroundings, lest the thief get close enough to place a tracker, a bug, or any other kind of trap.

He spent every moment at school keyed up, unwilling to become a liability and security risk like Aoko, and on the look out for anything that could be evidence.

At least his enhanced senses helped. It was difficult to bug him without his knowledge, when he could sense even the slightest increase of weight and the shift of a single hair. It didn't matter how silently the thief could move, because it was physically impossible to move quietly enough to avoid Saguru's hearing.

Small mercies. But it didn't change that he'd have to do it all again tomorrow, or the part of him that _wanted_ to, that reveled in the challenge. School certainly wasn't boring anymore.

But Saguru needed to catch KID. How could he ever surpass Yuusaku if he couldn't even catch a criminal in his own classroom? He'd never be the world's greatest detective like that.

The thoughts, plans, and insecurities spun in his mind, winding around in endless little circles. And like always, when he got anxious, his became far too aware of his surroundings, his senses ramping up to a near intolerable degree. His head pounded with each distant footstep and laugh, until he fled to the only guaranteed quiet room in the manor: the library.

The Kudo library was an impressive room: large, expansive, and well stocked. Soundproofed and peaceful, it had stolen Saguru's heart the moment he walked in nearly seven years ago. Ever since, it had served as a sort of sanctuary for him, a place he could sort through his thoughts and clear his head.

And it was special for another reason. After all, he wasn't the only one who found the quiet, still room comforting.  
As expected, he could hear the familiar, soft sounds. Even, gentle breathes, a strong, steady heartbeat, and the sweet turning of pages. Shinichi was lost somewhere in the shelves, as per usual.

Relaxing, Saguru made his way over, finding the other teen perusing a shelf of encyclopedias. Not an unusual choice of reading for Shinichi, who, like Saguru, absorbed information and facts like a sponge. But it did suggest that Shinichi was in a work mood, and probably didn't wish to be disturbed.

Saguru was all right with that. He didn't really want to talk right then either.

Except, as he moved on, he heard a book snapping shut and Shinichi hurriedly looking up. "I need to talk to you," Shinichi called, and Saguru turned back, surprised. Shinichi rarely opened a conversation so seriously, not unless it was about a case. But school started up again the next day, and Shinichi had just finished up a massive scoop. There wasn't any time for picking up another case.

Unless, it was about the battle the day before, and the lead Shinichi has briefly mentioned.

He thought back to yesterday, to the sight of a form tumbling free from a careening helicopter, and his muscles tensed under the stiff fabric of his dress shirt. Shinichi shouldn't have even been in the line of fire, and as a civilian, he had no place in that copter on the front-lines. Which mean that somehow, something he was working on had led him there. And that made Saguru uneasy. "What about?" Saguru asked, and Shinichi met his eyes with a sharp gaze.

"A possible lead on the disaster yesterday." Not monster, disaster. It was unlike Shinichi to use such general terms; he was a man of specifics.

"A lead?" Saguru prompted carefully. He wasn't entirely sure he liked where this was going. Whatever happened yesterday, he was sure everyone would prefer if Shinichi stayed out of it. "Yesterday, I started investigating the case of a runaway."

"A runaway?" Saguru repeated skeptically, without thinking. He'd been expecting something else: a murder, or scandal, or fraud. Not something as benign as a runaway. Shinichi gave him a disgruntled look at being interrupted, and Saguru raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just surprised. You usually work much larger cases." Shinichi had a knack for finding the biggest, nastiest conspiracy in town, or the most convoluted homicide, or the most contrived kidnapping.

"No case is too small." Shinichi said, his bold posture not quite haughty, but far from humble. It was a pose Shinichi had apparently mastered from birth, because it had been just as polished and sure when they first met practically decade ago.

"And no case is too large either, right?" Saguru filled in the rest, and got another venomous look for his efforts. He stared right back, used to it. "Don't posture, we both know which kind you prefer." Shinichi had just returned from spending his holiday in India investigating structurally unsound factories, after all. Small time reporters just didn't do that, especially not ones in high school. Shinichi ignored the implications easily, shrugging them off with the ease and grace of a practiced interrogator.

"A runaway adolescent that was living in an abandoned warehouse by the docks disappeared from the streets roughly a week ago."

Saguru raised an eyebrow, not seeing where this was going. "So?"

"That warehouse was destroyed yesterday," Shinichi said, gravely, as he pulled out his camera and showed Saguru several pictures. Some were of an old, decrepit building, others inside it, in the gloom of dust, and the rest were of wreckage. So Shinichi had been in the area before the attack even began. No wonder he was able to respond so promptly.

"I'm not sure what you are saying. Half of that area was demolished yesterday." Shinichi's fingers fidgeted along the camera, drumming its edges, before they stilled. Saguru knew better than to think it was a nervous motion. More likely, it bared Shinichi's impatience with him. "The...fire monster from yesterday appeared near or in a factory. From there, it destroyed the area, with no identifiable pattern." Shinichi explained, "but then, it made a beeline for the warehouse blocks away. It walked right over it and then did the same thing and started rampaging. From there on there was no sense to its movements, like it didn't know what to do."

"Kudo-kun, what you are saying—" Saguru tried to cut in, but Shinichi barely paused to allow him a word in.

"It was panicking. It started off confused, then tried to go to the warehouse, and once there, for some reason, started to panic." There, Shinichi stopped, eyes sharp on Saguru's face, judging his reaction, most likely.

For a moment, Saguru considered facts Shinichi was presenting, and the proposed hypothesis. While such a pattern of movement and behavior would suggest something of the like if the culprit were human, they weren't talking about a spooked crook or a confused civilian. The closest the inferno from yesterday was to humanoid was in its most basic form. It resembled a sort of flaming giant at the first glance, but it had to have been made up of some kind of dense, temperature resistant substance to not collapse in on itself, melting down like lava. There couldn't have been anything human about it, not unless it was something like Hattori, who had an ability that was so rare that it bordered on almost impossible. But Saguru wouldn't know the nature of Heliopause's abilities, only Hawk would.

So instead of complying, he dismissed the idea of it, as he would normally reject such out of bounds thinking. "What's your evidence for this? It sounds like wild conjecture." Shinichi pinched his lips together, eyes going suspicious and contemptuous. Saguru wanted to wince under the look, but held firm.

It was ridiculous, some days, this heartless charade, always keeping his mouth shut, and lying when Shinichi wanted honesty. It felt especially wrong to do it here, in the room where they first met and bonded as kids. These endless, half-accusatory, half-denying dances around each other were constantly pushing them all apart. There was a time when it hadn't been so hard, when they were both children with a limitless future, chasing each other around this huge manor and endlessly chattering about their favorite books. Back when Saguru didn't really grasp the severity of the secrets they kept, and didn't understand how painful lying could get. Years and age and a thousand little bitter things held against each other had piled up almost tangibly between them.

But despite it, they both kept trying to close that distance, kept on trying to connect.

Just like now, as Shinichi took a sharp breath, held the camera out to him again, and insisted, "Come look at the rest of the footage I took yesterday, and the birds eye view pictures of the destruction. You'll see that there's clearly—" But Saguru couldn't. Yuusaku had made it clear time and time again that he couldn't encourage this kind of investigation, that they had to keep Shinichi as far out this life as possible.

It hurt, it was frustrating, but he pushed the camera away. "It sounds like coincidence, Kudo-kun. Aren't you drawing connections between two completely different events?" As he spoke, he could see Shinichi's already cold eyes grow icy, angry and fierce. He kept going anyway. "What possible link could there be between a missing kid and a walking volcano?" he said, like the idea of it was especially foolish, as if he were was mocking a politician on TV.

Shinichi tensed up, predictably insulted, but maturely didn't rise up to the attack on his intellect. "That's what I'm trying to figure out—"

"You're reaching. You want an excuse to stick your nose into what happened yesterday." That, at least, was true. Even if this theory was less crazy than it sounded, he had no doubt in his mind that Shinichi wanted the two events to be connected, wanted a reason to get involved. "But this is too dangerous. You should keep out of this one, focus on your schoolwork, or soccer. The regionals are coming up soon, aren't they?"

"This is more important than—"

"It is? Or do you just want it to be so you feel like you're doing something?" Coming from anyone else, the words might have been careless. But Saguru chose each deliberately, as they were the one's that would discourage Shinichi the most. "You can't be that confident in this theory of yours, or you would have brought it to your father. Instead you bring it to me." That was the fatal blow, metaphorically. A sure fire way to get to the usually invincible Kudo Shinichi: press the Yuusaku button.

Predictably, Shinichi's expression visibly twitched, hurt rippling across his face, before cold detachment fell back into place. "I didn't bring this case to father because I have every intention of solving it on my own." Shinichi said coolly, before storming away. It was a sadly familiar sight, these days. One that used to make Saguru wallow in guilt for days, but now had become something of a relief.

Alone again. He sighed. So much for peace and quiet: his head was pounding. But that conversation didn't leave his mind either, even as he tried to stop thinking and just relax over the course of the next few hours. He had dismissed Shinichi's theory—conjecture, whatever that was—easily out loud, but inside he wasn't so sure. Shinichi was fiercely intelligent and observant, and an excellent behavioral analyst. The other had proven his investigative ability a thousand times over, again and again, despite endless obstacles. In the end, Saguru had no choice but to consider his words, but the implications of them made something twist in his stomach. Shinichi was suggesting that the monster the day before had feelings, and that it had been rampaging not out of malice, but out of panic. It was too disquieting to think about.

As of yet, they had no leads on how the disaster had begun. For all intents and purposes, the inferno had seemed to just erupt in the downtown area with no warning besides some strange energy fluctuation in the whole area. The League had been monitoring the fluctuations for days, but had learnt nothing from the seemingly sourceless radiation. They hadn't been able to spare the manpower and effort to investigate the area on foot or in depth, and now they had paid for their inattention. A boy had disappeared last week. The fluctuations had begun in the same timeframe. Coincidence.

But was it ever coincidence when Shinichi was involved? He would have to look into it, if only to assure himself that for once, Shinichi was chasing the wrong scent.

And if Shinichi wasn't… Well, Saguru would just have to keep him out of trouble.


	3. The Rotten Core

"And then KID-sama appeared! Like a star!"

_The star and the baron, dancing across the sky._

_the baron the baron is his father father father father_

_"_ God, Ran, he was amazing! He just appeared out of the darkness under this spotlight!"

_A dark, empty room. A spotlight on the center. A spotlight on the star, the star is falling falling falling hitting the ground_

_White stained red, red seeping across the ground, glittering like ruby, ruby like the stone clattering free in the dark, dark like the baron the baron the baron killed-_

"Everyone watching was like 'Woah!' Like, everyone was screaming."

_His own face reflected back at him on the other side of the stage, pale and slack with blue eyes wide open, open like the ceiling revealing the sky, revealing the face of the star no no no no father father father_

"Even on the TV you could hear how loud it was. And the Irregulars just couldn't keep up! KID was in and out with the jewel in no time!"

_the baron the baron like a shadow, mask grinning grinning grinning, hands red with blood and ruby the ruby the ruby all this for a ruby_

"Alright, Sonoko, we get it."

_Murderer. Murderer murderer murderer_

_That's not his father._

_The baron is not his father._

"Really, because I'm pretty sure Kudo-kun here didn't listen to a word I just said _."_

Only half awake, Shinichi untucked his head from his crossed arms, blinking blearily in the bright afternoon light. Both Ran and Sonoko were watching him, Ran seated at a desk, Sonoko on top of it. _"_ As if I could sleep through your obnoxious voice, Suzuki."

She made a face at him. "Oh look, he lives."

"I wasn't asleep." He'd barely even dozed, having just put his head down for a couple minutes as class winded down. His head had been spinning with thoughts and half-constructed plans and ideas and a lost boy's picture. As his mind had clouded, he felt like he remembered something, some distant recollection that came to him in the spaces between Sonoko's words.

What had he been thinking of? He felt like it had been important.

Sonoko snorted and slid off the desk. "Whatever. I've got to get to club. You should hurry, too, Kudo-kun." The brunette waved to Ran as she hurried off, following the last vestiges of their class out the door. Soon enough, it was just him, Ran, and the day's clean up crew dusting down the boards.

"Are you alright? Tired?" Ran asked, and her eyes were tracing his face. He hoped he didn't have imprints of his sleeves pressed into his cheek.

"I'm fine. That last class was just so boring."

"Well, the teacher wants to make sure everyone remembers what we learned before break. Not everyone has your memory." Ran smiled, showing him her notebook. The page was lined with careful notes. She hadn't always been such a dedicated student, but since she started missing more school this year, she'd started working harder in the classes she did make. If he had half her dedication to education, he'd be top of the class.

Well, she could use the grades on her school record, since she quit karate. A regional champion suddenly missing tournaments and competitions, and ultimately leaving the club entirely didn't look too good to universities.

Shinichi knew that one from personal experience. The soccer coach really wasn't going to be happy to see him after he skipped out on training camp again.

Together they moved out of the classroom to the lockers. He didn't feel guilty when he took out his sports bag anymore, but he could remember how he used to.

Ran looked at his bag, eying it suspiciously. It was bulky, but not in the right places for his soccer things. "You're skipping practice, again?" Ran gave him a disapproving look as she toed off her shoes, trading her indoor ones for her outdoor pair. "Honestly, Shinichi! The big tournament in coming up! Your coach is going to kill you!"

He shrugged. It wasn't like he had much choice. He almost didn't even bother coming to school at all, but he was already on the homeroom teacher's last nerve. If he skipped the first day after vacation, he'd probably spend all of the next day's classes outside with a bucket, which always managed to be even less interesting than class itself.

Ran prodded the bag with her foot. "You're going to investigate something, aren't you?"

Shinichi didn't bother with a reply, since they both knew she was right. Instead he gave her an expectant look, waiting for the inevitable insistence that she came along to keep him out of trouble. He didn't know how many times before that they'd played this game, but they both knew it well enough to guess each other's next move. He'd try to run off on his own, playing coy like he didn't want her to come chasing after. And she'd catch him anyway and declare that if he was going to go anyway, he might as well not go alone.

She pursed her lips at him, and he bit down on a smile. He loved that look. "Is it dangerous?" she prompted, seriously.

That question didn't have a simple answer. Everything he did somehow always turned out dangerous, whether it be walking home from school or going to a pottery class. Ran, though, seemed to be in a firm state of denial about that, as if she believed if he just shut his eyes and stopped looking for trouble, it would stop showing up at his door. He settled on the middle ground. "Shouldn't be. There have been some suspicious incidents-"

A sharp ringtone interrupted him. Immediately, Ran slipped her hand into her pocket and flipped her phone open, reading something intently. He hadn't thought she was waiting for a message. What did it say, and who was it from? Curious, he stood taller, trying to peer over the top of her phone. She flipped it shut with a smile. The same smile she wore as kids, whenever she was nervously hatching a stupid plan to get her parents back in the same room, and trying to hide it from him because she didn't want him calling her an idiot again.

He didn't like that smile, but he'd been seeing it more and more recently these days. A dark feeling squashed his curiosity, and suddenly, he didn't want to know.

Ran shoved her phone back in her pocket and snatched up her bag. In an instant, she was by him and heading out the door.

"Sorry, but I have to go! Urgent business. I'll call you later, okay?" She waved with an apologetic smile as she ducked out the exit. Soon enough, she'd disappeared in the crowd of other students leaving the building.

"Right." He said to no one, feeling his eyebrow twitch in aggravation. That was so _suspicious._

He tried not to feel disappointed as he made his own way out, but it was hard not to. While Shinichi didn't mind investigating alone, hell, he even preferred it that way, something about watching Ran's retreating back always left a bad taste in his mouth.

He refused to overthink it, though, as he boarded a bus downtown, instead focusing on the case ahead of him.

Daichi and his net of vagrant informants had been able to provide him a list of places to check out. If there was anything to find, his best chances at finding it was by heading to each place personally.

He disembarked deep downtown, just blocks away from the first destination on his list. Despite the bright sunlight and the handful of other people around him, he felt uneasy. While this district hadn't been so much as touched in the recent attack, the stench of melted concrete and the skittish atmosphere permeated the air even here. Life went on, but the terror was still fresh in the city's memory.

And he couldn't forget the shadowy figures he'd seen the other day, gathered on the edges of Tokyo's gaping wound like a flock of blackbirds. Somehow, they seemed ominous.

Knowing what he did now, part of him wanted to run into them again. The other part recognized that _that_ was a very reckless train of thought.

After all, once, he was a forgettable passerby. Twice, he was recognizable.

A hand caught his shoulder.

Shinichi jerked underneath the grip, pulling away. His heart did a little leap in his chest.

Hattori Heiji grinned apologetically, pulling back. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to spook ya."

"Hattori! What are you doing here?" Shinichi asked, and the Osakan detective grinned wider.

"Investigatin' stuff." Informative. "Whatcha doin'? Lookin' for a story? I'll give ya an exclusive, if ya want." Ugh. They'd done that one before. Shinichi had been tempted to just title the article 'Awkward.'

"No thanks." Shinichi rolled his eyes and turned away. He wasn't in any mood for nonsense.

"Now wait a sec, Kudo!" Hattori tugged him back by his shirt collar, a clingy arm stubbornly entrapping his shoulders as the detective slung it over him. "These addresses. What ya got 'em for?" Shinichi found himself blinking at his own note, hanging in front of his nose. Instinctively he checked his pocket, and well, nothing.

"Just some places of interest."

"Don't tell me…" Hattori gave him a long considering look. Just great. If this were Hakuba, he'd probably already be dragged home. "You're investigatin' the arson cases too!"

"Uh." Shinichi said very intelligently. The what?

Wait. The fires at all the warehouses. To someone who didn't know about the kidnappings, all the different events would look like a suspicious pattern in supposedly unrelated arsons.

Well, investigating a couple weird fires was a lot less dangerous that a shifty group of kidnappers. He could totally get away with this, if he played his cards right.  
Hattori was chattering away. "Great minds really do think alike, eh? That's what I came up here for. I should have known you'd be on it." After the whole mess in India-so much fire. So, so much fire-that was actually a fair assumption. A wrong one, but Hattori had a way of coming to perfectly reasonable wrong conclusions.

"You came all the way here to investigate the arson cases?" Shinichi had no idea just how much time Hattori spent actually in Osaka. Couldn't be much, these days.

"Well, ya know how it is. 'Cause of that new rail system, travel's so quick and cheap. I figured I might as well look into it."

Shinichi raised an eyebrow incredulously. Hattori spluttered. "Aw come on, ya know arson is my specialty!" Things did have the most bizarre tendency to burst into flames whenever Hattori was in town. It was probably a miracle that a historic city like Osaka hadn't burned down already.

Oblivious to Osaka's impending fiery doom, Hattori shook the list. "I was about to go check some of these addresses myself, plus a couple of others."

That refocused Shinichi. "Others?" He'd been almost excessively thorough in his interviewing of the city's misplaced youth. It was unlikely that he'd missed any crime scenes.

"Three or four more that aren't on your list."

"Really?"

Hattori pulled out his phone and presented Shinichi with a similar list. There were a couple addresses he didn't recognize, and a few missing. "Yup. How about we work together?"

"Us? Work together?"

"Don't look so surprised. Yeah, I know, your old man doesn't want ya in the detective business. But I figure that won't stop ya, so we might as well just go together."

Shinichi's jerk reaction was to say no. He'd never really worked alongside anyone before, and there was a fair chance Hattori hadn't run into him by coincidence. This could be another one of his father's machinations. But on the other hand, working with someone didn't sound so bad. It would certainly be refreshing.

And he wanted to hang out with Hattori.

Shinichi bit his lip, uncertain, before realizing what he was doing and reining his expression back in. Hattori wasn't a sneaky guy, and there was no guarantee this was part of a harebrained scheme. Maybe someone just wanted to spend time with him for once, and he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Shinichi forced his paranoia to the back of his mind and took a chance. "...Alright."

Hattori grinned, obviously pleased. "Great! Let's go!"

They visited several of the sites in rapid succession. Practically all the buildings had been razed to the ground, leaving behind husks of rubble and scorched remains. In another time, there would have been very little they could tell without each building's individual blueprints, but this was the era of Google Maps and search engines. It was easy to find pictures of what each building once looked like, inside and out. Most of the scenes had a great deal in common: old, out of use buildings. For most, a little investigation revealed why. Not enough exits and fire escapes, no ramps, halls too tight, foundations too careless.

At visiting the last address on Hattori's list, an old factory in the eastern quarter, they settled down to discuss.

Except Shinichi was still playing catch-up on whatever was going through Hattori's head. Thankfully, Hattori began. "So what are ya thinking? Insurance fraud?"

Insurance fraud. It made sense, if one didn't know about the whole missing kid thing. "Normally, yes. All the buildings burned down were old, not in use, but still owned. None of them could be sold without prior renovations to meet up with the city's safety standards." The city had been updating its workplace codes almost troubling often over the past three years, trying to hone worker evacuation and accessibility down to an art, not to mention requiring large building to have strong, sturdy foundations to prevent as many collapses as possible. "The owners will probably win big on insurance if they have the right lawyers working the claims, and so many cases in such a short period could be attributed to the debates over the upcoming insurance laws. The owners' might have been afraid that the policies would change."

But Shinichi knew that wasn't quite the case, but it was also one hell of a coincidence.

"That's exactly what I was thinkin'." Hattori nodded. "Problem being, almost all the buildings were owned by different companies and insured by separate agencies."

  
"They can't all be insurance fraud," Shinichi said, uncertain how else to go on. He hesitated to spill everything he knew. The last thing he needed was any of this getting back to his father, and Hattori tended to have a big mouth.

"If we add your list to my list, we've got a total of nineteen buildings, twelve companies, and seven different insurances." Hattori stared at his phone contemplatively, before huffing out a breath. "How the hell do we tell which ones to focus on? It'd be a pain in the ass to investigate 'em all."

Shinichi shifted on his feet, weighing his options. But didn't he already decide to take a chance? He wasn't one to go back on his decisions. "Hattori, subtract my list from your list."

"What?" The detective blinked at him.

"Just do it."

Hattori held up the two lists side by side, frowning. "That leaves five buildings."

"Who owns those five buildings?"

Hattori checked their notes, a knowing grin already spreading across his face. "Tendou Motor Supply Co. LuckyFish. Petrola. Ah! Tendou Motor Supply Co. again and… Petrola."

They grinned at each other. There was nothing quite like the feeling of honing in on a target. "We need to look into LuckyFish." Shinichi had never heard of the company before, but that wasn't really surprising. It would be impossible to know every single business in a huge city like Tokyo.

"I bet they're a shell company for one of these guys." Hattori pocketed the lists and pulled out his phone for some quick research. "Looks like we've got our insurance fraud. But what about the other places?"

"Unrelated arson cases." Shinichi said confidently. Hattori glanced up at him, brow furrowed.

"Okay...? Think someone in those companies noticed the arson cases and decided to use them as camouflage to cash in?"

"That's exactly what I think." However, he wasn't entirely convinced the other arsons had nothing to do with fraud. It could be a two birds one stone situation. He'd look into each individual case anyway. The thought of all that legwork and research made him want to groan.

Hattori was still watching him, a little suspicious. "But how did ya know that all the one's on your list were unrelated?"

"Because I wasn't investigating the arson, specifically, from the start." Shinichi fessed up with a shrug.

Hattori blinked. "Then...why?"

"Kids have been going missing from the streets throughout the city. And almost every time a kid disappears, a building nearby goes up in flames."

"And you don't think the kids got caught in the fire."

"No. I think someone is trying to cover their tracks."

"Hell of a dramatic cover-up. Haven't these guys ever heard of soap and water?"

It was a bizarre way to handle things. But the only reason Shinichi had a lead at all was because, for some reason, they missed one. Why was the warehouse he visited a few days ago left still standing, or alternatively, why did all the others need to be so thoroughly destroyed?

Wait. The buildings that weren't on Hattori's list. They hadn't checked those, and he hadn't thoroughly looked into them. It was possible one of them had survived.

"Why don't we go find out?" Excitement bubbled in his veins at the thought of another lead. He couldn't help throwing Hattori a smirk. "I've got an idea."

The first building wasn't burnt, but it had collapsed in on itself, like a birdhouse someone had shattered with a hammer. The second had been destroyed in the disaster on Saturday.

The third remained, and best of all, it was easy to break into.

Hattori watched him jimmy the lock. Hakuba or Ran would be disapprovingly breathing down his neck, but Hattori just seemed curious. When the door gave and swung open, they found the insides to be almost well lit. For the most part, the factory was a wide-open expanse, littered with dusty machinery and boxes and barrels that had been abandoned. The ceiling was lined with frosted windows, illuminating the doors leading deeper into the building in the back.

It was a creepy place. The atmosphere was bad, and not just because of the dust. Shinichi felt suffocated-no, enclosed in a place he couldn't escape.

The door swung closed behind Hattori, the lock automatically clicking back into place, and Shinichi forced himself to take a deep breath. Something about this place was wrong. It felt almost like they were being watched.

A trap.

"Hattori, try the door."

"What?" Hattori grunted, but he seemed to catch on to Shinichi's nervousness. He first tried the doorknob, but it didn't budge. Then he tried to twist the lock. Except the lock's knob was missing. There was nothing to turn.

A door that could only be unlocked from the outside. Not a good sign.

"Uh, Kudo?" Hattori looked around the room again, this time ten times more wary. "This seem weird to ya?"

Shinichi didn't bother with a reply, heading further into the factory. The only way out was through now. Just great. As he walked, he rummaged through his bag until he found his camcorder. It was a comforting weight in his hand, and their hazy surrounding seemed a little less confining through a camera lens. Just to be safe, he hit record.

The same feeling was clawing up his throat, drying his mouth. He felt like an animal being corralled, forced to run himself right into the snapping jaws of a bear trap.

The worst part was not knowing if the feeling was his own, or someone else's.

They stopped at the doors at the other end of the room. "Guess we gotta chose one." Hattori sighed. Each had been labeled, once, but if the blocky black lettering had ever meant something, there was no telling now. They checked each, but all the doors lead down almost identical halls that weren't nearly as well lit as the main room. Figuring that finding an exit was probably first on their priorities, Shinichi chose one closest to the adjacent wall.

Hattori activated the flashlight on his phone. It wasn't much, but it helped. Shinichi didn't think he could handle the dark closing in on them too, especially in such a narrow hall.

Carelessly, he bumped his hand into the wall. A rush of fear coursed through his arm like ice water.

Whoever had been trapped here before hadn't had a flashlight, and they had been terrified of the dark. But turning around hadn't been an option for them, either.

A child, Shinichi realized. This was the primal, unfiltered fear of a child. They passed more doors. Offices, it would seem, but the windows of each door reflected most to the light Hattori shined through, so it was hard to tell.

Shinichi brushed his fingers over each doorknob, opening the mind he usually tried so hard to keep closed. He wanted to know, and for that he needed to feel.

Hope, fear, frustration.

The child had fought with each door, clawing and shoving, but none of them gave. There was nowhere to hide. Each time he ran further into the hall, _hearing the pounding of footsteps behind him alongside the pounding of his own heart, he tried another. One them had to open, one of them just had to give, they were going to catch him, they were coming he had to run there was nowhere to run hands were reaching towards him in the dark he couldn't see but they had to be there monsters of the dark bogeymen that stole children-_

"Shinichi!" Hattori shook his shoulder, breaking him free from the memory. "Do ya hear that?"

Shinichi froze, listening. Those pounding footsteps weren't just in his head.

"Come on!" He grabbed Hattori's arm and forced him further down the hall. As they ran, he kept one hand on the wall. The child had been running and running, there had to be a way out, there just had to be.

Despair hit him like a train.

Hattori stumbled to a stop. A dead end.

Cautiously, Shinichi tapped the far wall. He needed to know the end of the story.

Pain of an impact. _No no no. Cold hands, harsh grips, his screams resounding off the walls._

"Damn. Guess we gotta go back. Thinks it's the cops?" Hattori sighed, turning around and flicking off the light.

God, Shinichi wished. But he knew it wasn't.

They crept back the way they came, and this time Shinichi didn't touch anything. He needed the calm of his own mind, his own confidence. Whatever was waiting for them, he could handle it.

He'd faced down thugs before. He'd been thrown from helicopters and buildings. He'd been held at gunpoint, and he'd held a gun of his own. He'd been in collapses and fires and messes beyond his own imagination.

Whatever was waiting on the other end of this hall, he'd shine a light right in its face and reveal just whatever it really was.

* * *

Heiji hadn't been expecting trouble.

But the moment they opened the door they came through, Shinichi hissed right into his ear, "Get down!" Shinichi dragged Heiji down by the arm, hiding them behind the bulky machinery. On the far side of the room, past tall boilers and steel catwalks, the door farthest from them slammed open. A group of men marched in, and god, Heiji only needed one look at them to tell they were bad news. No innocent mechanics or factory workers could ever look so suspicious, dressed up in black and on the prowl. At the head of the group was a behemoth of a man, taller and more muscular than anyone Heiji had ever even seen before, dressed for business but with a face more suited for a shootout.

Heiji was pretty sure Shinichi was expecting the latter.

"It's them." Shinichi said, with a voice softened by breathy surprise. His face was caught in an expression of excited intrigue, his eyes narrowed and bright. Heiji couldn't really blame him, his own heart was hammering, but part of him did wish the crazy reporter could chill for half a second. "We have to get closer."

Well, Heiji wasn't exactly that good at being careful either.

They crept closer, moving slowly and quietly between covers. Shinichi's eyes were constantly darting around, but there was a distinct coldness to his expression now: it was a face that meant business. Together they measured up the group of thugs as they lurked around the premise, obviously searching for something. Even in the echoing room, it was difficult to make out the words being said, but it seemed like whatever the bad guys were looking for, they weren't finding it, and that pissed them off.

The big guy had a hideous moustache to go with his 1960's hat, which would almost be too cliché to take seriously if there wasn't something so inherently intimidating about him.

Heiji could totally take him though. There wasn't anything to be worried about.

Except Shinichi was with him.

Yeah, picking a fight now would definitely impede on that secret identity thing.

Oblivious to Heiji's ramping concern, Shinichi held up his camera higher, to get better shots of the thugs and their faces. From the distance, Heiji had thought they were all wearing sunglasses, but now that they were closer, he realized they were wearing black masks with sharp hooked noses, like bird beaks.

Heiji liked this situation less and less. He'd never run into thugs with bird masks before, never even heard of them, but somehow, that wasn't comforting.  
"No sign of the package, sir." One of the masked men reported to the big guy.

"Check the other halls." The big guy snapped back. The others hurried to comply, moving in groups to each door. It was easy to tell who was in charge.

"We're still behind quota, Tequila sir." One lackey hung back at the big guy's side. He must have been higher ranked than the others or something.

"Tch, a city full of mangy runts and yet, we can't find any. There's got to be at least one in here." Tequila growled. Tequila. What a name. Heiji focused on him. He could probably take the big guy with just minimal use of his powers, but his priority was getting Shinichi out safely.

He was so focused, that he failed to react in time. The lackey looked up, right in their direction. "Seems they've wizened up a bit." They threw themselves down out of sight, but not fast enough. Heiji felt a chill run down his spine as Tequila caught his gaze before he was down. "Or maybe not."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Heiji hissed.

"Run." Shinichi said, quick and simple, slinging his bag firmly over his shoulder, before he booked it back towards the exit. Heiji quickly scrambled after him. Fuck the lock, he'd break the door down if he had to.

They kept low, ducking and weaving as they dashed between shelters. Just when they were dashing across the open floor, two sharp sounds sent them scrambling in opposite directions for cover.

Gunshots.

"Cover the exits! Don't let them escape." Tequila barked. The birdmen came running at his command, spreading out through the room. "And preferably, get them alive!" Preferably alive. Comforting.

Heiji peeked over the top of his—bench? Yup, he was hiding from guns behind a concrete workbench. He, who could melt bullets before they could even touched his skin. Seven bird-creeps were making their way across the warehouse towards him. The others were heading right for the exit, guns in hand. And Shinichi was roughly fifteen meters away, stuck behind a boiler and still filming. More thugs were pouring out of the halls, emerging from the shadows like bats in a cave.

Too many to fight off without his powers.

But if they had abandoned the halls...

Heiji took another glance at Shinichi. Tequila said he wanted them alive. Shinichi would be fine. Heiji would be back in a couple minutes, tops.

He took a breath, and let it out. "Sorry, Kudo!"

Shinichi turned his way. "What-?" But Heiji was already running, back the way they came. The bird creeps were caught off guard, and reacted to slowly. In an instant, Heiji had broken their line and was sprinting back into the hall they had escaped moments before.

"Hattori!" Shinichi yelled furiously, somewhere behind him.

The last thing he heard from the room was Tequila's voice. "What a fool, cornering himself. Grab the other one."

* * *

Three minutes, later, Heiji took another deep breath and readjusted his mask for a better fit. He was flying low, as close to the factory as he could manage, and peering through the windows into the main factory.

Tequila stood in the center of the room, surrounded by his lackeys, two of which were restraining Shinichi's arms.

Heiji felt a little bad for those two. Shinichi's glare alone was terrifying.

"Where the hell is the other one?" Tequila was yelling. He was holding Shinichi's camera.

"Seems like he broke down one of the office doors and jumped out a window, sir." One of the thugs reported. He shuddered when Tequila shifted to look at him.

"Tch." Tequila turned away and the thug visibly relaxed without the boss's attention on him. Instead, Shinichi became the new object of the bastard's ire. "So all we've got is some measly fucking reporter?" Shinichi glared back at Tequila with icy eyes. Neither of them flinched under the sharp gaze of the other.

Heiji held his breath, muscles tensing. Where was Kazuha? Probably still kilometers away. She wouldn't arrive in time if things came down to a fight.

Inside, the stare down continued. Shinichi held his head high, despite his position kneeling on the floor. It would be a cold day in hell when Kudo Shinichi bowed underneath a criminal's glare.

Suddenly, Tequila snarled and smashed the camera on the ground at Shinichi's feet. Heiji jerked forward, keyed up and ready to burst in, but Shinichi didn't even blink, not until the scraps began to spark.

The thugs holding Shinichi lurched back, dragging him across the floor with them.

The camera exploded. It erupted into red and blinding white and black smoke. The force of it knocked all three to the ground.

None of them got back up.

"Shit, Kudo!" It was stupid, hanging back to get a grasp of the situation! It was stupid; he should have known it was stupid, because it was how Hakuba did things. Heiji should have just charged headfirst like he always did.

With anger rushing through his veins, he pulled back his fist, feeling his entire being rippling with burning power. One blast was all it took to shatter the factory wall into half-melted debris, and immediately, all eyes, and guns, were on him.

Heiji didn't care, shooting down through the opening into the factory.

"Stop right there!" He barked, but he didn't really expect them to listen. "By the authority of the-" A bullet interrupted the rehearsed spiel, melting into nothing just centimeters from his cheek. Fine by him, the whole 'surrender now' bullshit was his least favorite part. "Guess we're skipping right to the tryin' to kill each other thing."  
He kept to the air, flying close to ceiling, so all shots were focused up. The last thing he needed was Shinichi's unmoving form getting riddled by ricochet right now. It took just a few plasma blasts to send the thugs scrambling for cover, and just a couple melted bullets for them to realize their guns meant shit.

Karma. That was just what the assholes got.

"A wannabe hero, eh?" Tequila said. He didn't sound concerned. "Came all the way here to save a reporter?" He was the only one left, standing tall and unimpressed. With a careless shrug, he gestured at Shinichi, who wasn't moving, crumpled on the ground like a discarded doll just meters away.

A rush of fear seized in Heiji's chest. But he wasn't going to give Tequila the chance to take advantage of it. "Ya asshole!" He shot right at the giant man like a molten hot bullet, but Tequila didn't even bother to dodge. They collided head on, and it was like running full force into a steel wall. Or like the time he and Ran accidently flew right into each other in their first battle.

The collision sent him reeling, skidding across the concrete. The floor bubbled against his skin. Tequila's clothes were burning, and so was his skin, but the injuries weren't as bad as they should've been. The bastard was tough.

Well, that was fine, because so was Heiji. He shot right back into the air for round two.

"You're out of your league, brat." Tequila grinned, a nasty, cruel smile that stretched too far up. Heiji felt something like unease tickling in his veins, but he forced it back down and rushed the bastard again. There was no way the jerk could take another of those hits.

Too late did Heiji see Tequila pull back his fist.

The first hit, he took to the face. Tequila punched him with the power of a freight train, momentum carrying Heiji right into the blow. Another came from below, the uppercut catching him right in the gut.

It hurt. God, shit, it hurt.

The force of the second hit launched him right back into the air and into the ceiling, which shuddered with the impact. Then, he fell back down, plummeting right back to the floor.

Tequila was waiting with that same damn grin. The third hit was a kick to the ribs as he went back down, launching him into the far wall, which crumpled under his weight.

For a moment, the whole world went black. All he could hear was Tequila laughing, and his own raspy attempts to breath. He wasn't getting any air; it was like someone had dropped bricks on his lungs.

The pain almost overwhelmed the burning.

"What did I just say, you little fuck?" Tequila's voice echoed along with the ringing in his ears. Everything hurt. "Think you can win a fight by just throwing yourself around? Think you can save someone just because you put on a mask?"

He was lying on his stomach in the remnants of the wall, heavy stone settling on his legs and back. Just opening his eyes was a struggle. The world was blurry and took too long to focus, but when it did, Heiji shuddered. The henchmen were creeping back in, and Tequila was striding back over to Shinichi. "You lot! Grab the reporter! We're getting out of here before any other nuisances show up."

Fuck that, Heiji thought. His head was reeling, his sight was bleary, and he couldn't breath, but he'd been taught well. Trained until flying was easier than breathing. He lifted off the ground, shaking of the debris. He forced his chest to open, to expand, and the first breath was hard, but the second was easier.

The mooks scattered at the first sight of him, and Tequila turned back his way.

The jerk was still grinning. That was fine, because Heiji was going to punch that smile right off his ugly mug.

Tequila opened his mouth to say something, but Heiji charged a blast and released it in rapid succession. The plasma hit with a flash of light, but when the light faded, Tequila was still standing, unbothered. It was too weak to do much, but it gave Heiji a moment to regain his breath.

"You should have just played dead, brat." The bird mask covered Tequila's eyes and nose, but there was a dangerous air about Tequila as he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a handful of bullets. With a nasty grin, he tossed them in the air.

Heiji hesitated. What was he-

The camera.

Shit.

Heiji barely twisted around the first explosion, but still felt the pressure of it rippling through the air. The force of the first sent him careening right into the second, and then the third.

The explosions weren't large, in fact, they were tiny, but they were strong, precise, and hurt. And while Heiji was dense enough to take just about any kind of impact, he felt his head reeling with the force of them.

He didn't even want to think about what would happen if one of these hit someone else.

But worst of all, the bullets were small objects in free-fall, and god dammit, he was a high-density mass with his own gravity. They gravitated towards him in the air like magnets. It was going to be impossible to dodge them all.

So why bother?

Heiji brought up his arms to give his head at least some cover, and took a deep breath. It didn't calm the pounding in his chest, or ease the burn consuming his whole being like a wild fire. He took another, just for luck, and flew right through the midair minefield. The explosions hurt like hell, and almost knocked him off course, but momentum carried him through.

Tequila wasn't expecting that. The asshole's grin fell right off his face as Heiji rushed right at him again.

And that? That was worth it.

Heiji was angry, he was hurt, and he clung to the fury, the rage. It just made him burn that much hotter. This time, Heiji pulled back a fist and charged it, feeling the burn of plasma in his palm. It was like holding the sun in his hand, he'd once told Kazuha.

She had laughed. He hadn't.

He slugged Tequila right across the face with a two thousand degree sucker punch.

That knocked the bastard back with a choked scream, but still he didn't go down. What would it take? Just what could bring this monster down?

Probably more than Heiji could offer. Plus, he had other priorities. He flew right over to Shinichi, who was struggling to sit up, blearily blinking at the ceiling. Carefully, he cooled his arms down as much as he could manage, which was sadly still probably unpleasantly hot, and helped Shinichi up the rest of the way.

Shinichi was pale, and a little listless. Not quite concussed, but he'd definitely hit his head. He put more weight on Heiji than on his own feet, and still teetered sideways.

Just a couple meters away, Tequila had a hand to his face, groaning. Heiji flinched when Tequila's hand fell away, revealing hideous red burns and melting flesh. Clinging to his sleeve and unsteady, Shinichi made a gagging sound, unfocused eyes blown wide.

There was blood caking the ground, already half dry.

Staring Heiji right in the eyes, Tequila, with one side of his mouth burned black and bloody red and hanging almost loose, smiled.

"Remember this, hero." Bile fought to rise in Heiji's throat as Tequila spoke, stretching the grisly wound on his face. "Because next time we meet, I'm going to tear your face right off and wear it."

Tequila reached into his jacket again, and Heiji tensed. This time, Tequila tossed the bullets straight up.

Heiji pushed Shinichi down and shielded him with his own body. For once, Shinichi didn't protest. The bullets came back down, and erupted into flashes of blinding light and smoke.

When the smoke cleared, the bad guys were gone.

* * *

Shinichi had spent more than his fair share of time sitting in ambulances, getting checked over for injuries. Most days, he walked away just fine. He would again, today, if a little unsteadily. The EMT prodded at the back of his head gingerly, frowning, but they both knew that there'd just be a bump there tomorrow.

He'd gotten lucky, the EMT said. Shinichi didn't bother to disagree aloud. He would have preferred to be luckier.

Shinichi didn't remember as much as he would have liked. The kidnappers-he was certain that was what they were-had been pinning him and Tequila had been staring him down and then the camera exploded and everything after that was a blur of flashing lights and deafening noise.

He distinctly remembered Heliopause heaving him off the ground, feeling too hot skin against his own, a whole lot of explosions, and Tequila's face being half-burned off. That last bit was going to be hard to forget.

He also remembered Hattori literally leaving him to the birds.

Jerk.

But most of everything was impressions of pain, anger, and the sickening desire to hurt, to crush, to cause pain. Everything else was just flashes and blurry and useless.

He couldn't write a report on this. Police and other reporters were buzzing around the area, which was filled with more flashing light and too much noise. Apparently Banshee had been there too, but he didn't remember her at all.

Heliopause and Banshee, and apparently, Hattori, had given the police a full recounting of both their shares of the afternoon's events while he was in the ambulance. The police would wait until tomorrow to hear out Shinichi, though. Apparently, he wasn't in any state to give full, sound-minded report. They wouldn't even let him back into the building to get a sample of the blood Tequila left. A reputable detective would have been let back in, probably, but not a reporter. Most policemen distrusted the media, either on principle, or because of their own previous bad relations.

Where was Hattori? Gone, like he always was when Shinichi actually needed him.

"Kudo!" Well, most of the time. Hattori suddenly emerged from the surrounding crowd, rushing over. He didn't look good, streaked with dust and sweat, and there were some scrapes exposed on his arms. What had he done to escape? Jumped out a window, right.

The sight of him just annoyed Shinichi more. Part of him wanted to ask the EMT to just shut the ambulance's doors and floor it, but the medic was already packing up and moving away with a sympathetic smile.

Too soon, Hattori was in his personal space, poking and prodding and inspecting. "Ya alright?" Hattori asked, nudging Shinichi's head to the side to peer at the back of it. Shinichi pulled away from the touch, glaring.

Thankfully, Hattori backed off a little. "Doesn't look too bad." Encouraging. Hattori smiled shakily, slumping with relief. Shinichi didn't let Hattori's obvious concern ease the knot of frustration building in his gut.

"Why are you still here?" It didn't sound like the accusation he meant it to be. It sounded too calm.

"The bad guys are long gone. There's not even a scent to chase." Hattori shook his head. Then he grinned, teasingly. It felt forced. "Plus, I can't leave ya alone, now can I?" Ha. That was funny. As true as it was false.

"Yes, sure seems like you just can't." Leave me alone. Leave me alone. He couldn't imbue the words with nearly enough bitterness.

Hattori sobered. Suddenly, he looked exhausted. There was dust in his hair, and his lip was cracked. Shinichi didn't know what happened. He didn't want to even care. But Hattori forced his shoulders back up and set a hand on Shinichi's shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here," he coaxed.

Hattori was trying to be strong. Hattori, who had been so scared he ran, was trying to be strong for Shinichi.

Shinichi didn't need anyone to be strong for him. Hattori could go play tough guy elsewhere. "No." Shinichi snapped, and this time, the tone was just right. "Get in there and properly investigate. Get a blood sample. You're a detective, aren't you?" There was no mistaking the accusation for anything else this time.

Hattori, though, just looked confused, like a dog that didn't know why it's owner was pushing it away. "Hey-hey now, that's-"

Hattori's stumbling voice was interrupted by a sharp cry. "Shinichi!" He knew that voice anywhere.

"Ran," he said, without meaning to. And there she was, breaking free from the crowd and hurrying towards them. Hattori backed away, hands in the air as Shinichi turned on him. "You called Ran?" Shinichi snapped.

Hattori looked abashed. "Ah, and Hakuba. And your old man." Oh, great. Just great. The last three people in the world Shinichi wanted breathing down his neck right now. Of course Hattori called them all.

At least Ran was a sight for sore eyes. She was flushed, and her hair was in disarray, but she was still beautiful. The nicest thing Shinichi had laid eyes on in hours.

The very second he was in reach, arms wrapped around his shoulders and held tight. Ran's familiar weight settled against him. "Shinichi! Thank goodness you're alright!"

He relaxed into the embrace almost immediately, burying his face in her hair despite himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said, settling his arms around her waist as she pulled back to peer into his face. Her lavender eyes were a bit too wide.

And way too angry. Too soon, her relief was completely smothered beneath a tidal wave of anxious fury.

She pushed him back by the shoulders, and he recognized the wrinkle in her brow. He knew exactly what was coming next. "What were you thinking? Hanging around in a place like this! Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

There it was.

Shinichi tried not to grimace under her fierce glare. He hadn't meant to worry her; there was no way he could have known that they'd actually run into the kidnappers. Or that the warehouse would be a trap.

He tried to find the words to say all that, and to comfort her, but they didn't come fast enough.

Another familiar voice cut in. It almost made him flinch. "You should have asked one of us to come with you."

Shinichi took a breath through his nose. Perfect. "Hakuba?"

His father's protégé smiled thinly. Shinichi knew him well enough to see the strain in it. But that didn't matter, not compared to the sinking he felt in his own gut. He turned back to Ran, and she wilted a little, some of the anger bleeding out.

"We came together," she said.

Oh. Urgent business, huh.

Shinichi didn't want to think about that right now. Instead, he met Hakuba's scarlet gaze right on, challenging. "I had Hattori with me, didn't I?" Fat load of help he was, though. But that wasn't the point.

Hakuba spared Hattori a glance, like he was looking at a particularly unwelcome relative at a memorial service. "That's not comforting, Shin-Kudo-kun." He said, with a voice so smooth and sure that it was almost easy to miss the error. It was a voice that was designed to convince, to deliver the hard facts and make them a little more palatable. They'd learnt that voice from Shinichi's father, side by side. "You shouldn't even be sticking your nose into a detective's case, anyway. How many times have we talked about this?"

So many that even Shinichi had lost count. But that didn't make him want to swallow the unpleasant truth.

He caught Hattori's eye. Hattori shrugged. So, Hattori had kept some things to himself, for once. Not much, not enough. Shinichi couldn't even be bothered to appreciate it.

After all, Hattori wasn't exactly stepping up to his defense, either.

And Ran had placed herself solidly on Hakuba's side, still glaring, mouth set in a firm line. "He's right, Shinichi. You ditched soccer practice today to break into a bunch of warehouses! How could you act so irresponsible! Doing stuff like this is just too reckless. You're going to get hurt."

Whatever. Shinichi looked away from the three of them, at his hands instead. There were scrapes on his palms, and his skin was pink where Heliopause must have gripped his wrist. His face felt like it was burning. Still, his composure stayed intact.

He wanted them all to just go away. He wanted to be alone in his empty house. He wanted the comfort of those still, untouched rooms, bereft of any memories or emotions but his own.

His throat felt tight. He didn't say anything else.

What could he say? That this was important to him? That he wanted to help people, to feel useful? To connect with the world through the safe shield of a camera's lens? That he wanted to know the truth, about everything, and knew he couldn't, shouldn't know what he really wanted to know? That he tried to sate himself on any measly, impersonal truth the world had to offer him? That he was capable, he was skilled, and he was practical?

That he could do this, if they'd all just _let_ him?

The others went quiet too, probably feeling like they said too much. Maybe pitying him. Ran was, definitely. He knew he'd see it in her eyes if he looked back up.  
So he didn't.

* * *

Hakuba drove them back. Ran held his hand, slender fingers carefully intertwined with his own, grip just tight enough for him to know she didn't want to let go.

Her hand felt uncomfortable in his.

All three of them had made half aborted attempts at conversation, but while Hattori and Hakuba had eventually given up, Ran kept trying.

She always tried when he least wanted her to.

"Let's talk about the upcoming tournament, then," she said, voice lathered in faux cheer. "Think your team is ready?" His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He didn't want to respond.

Shinichi was looking out the window, watching lights flash by, chin cupped in his free hand. "We'll be fine." The words sounded bored, apathetic, and dismissive. They didn't sound like he'd forced them out like pulling teeth.

Ran perked up, hopeful and abashed all at once. "That's good. Read anything interesting over break?"

"The new Detective Saimonji book is coming out." Hakuba chimed in.

Soccer. Reading. The violin. Boating and snowboarding and driving and trips and vacations and anything else his parents could think up to distract him. The safe topics, the encouraged behaviors.

His own girlfriend couldn't think of anything else to talk about. Shinichi's tongue felt like chalk in his mouth, dry and heavy.

In the silence, Hakuba relented. "Kudo-kun, are you going to report tonight's events?"

"No." He didn't have the whole story yet. More than that, though, if those guys were the kidnappers, and Shinichi would bet his entire blog and his Twitter they were, they had the missing kids. If Shinichi carelessly put an article out there and said too much, chances were, any surviving kids would be dead before dawn.

And Shinichi wouldn't be any closer to finding them.

Well, no, not necessarily. Tequila and his men may have gotten away, but he knew what he was looking for now.

And, there was the footage he'd taken in the warehouse. Tequila may have blown his camcorder to smithereens, but maybe the memory card could be salvaged. He'd ask for it back from evidence the next day.

And then, Shinichi would find those crows again. In the meantime, he'd get back to Daichi and tell him to have everyone on the lookout for men in bird masks. If he could find someway to narrow down the targets, he could catch the next kidnapping attempt while it was still undergoing. The crows had mentioned something about a quota. They'd needed to bring in a certain amount of kids for something. Shinichi just had no idea as to what.

But he'd find out.

Ran's hand tightened around his. It felt like a shackle.

Shinichi didn't hesitate to march right to his room the moment they parked in the driveway. Maybe his father would want to speak with him, maybe Hakuba would like to passive-aggressively not-yell at him some more. Maybe Ran would follow.

None of those things happened. Surprisingly, it was Hattori who was on his heels.

"Kudo, come on!" Shinichi kept walking, stubbornly ignoring the footsteps trailing after him. "Talk to me! We gotta talk about this case, man!" They made it up the stairs with still no sign of his father. Good. Shinichi couldn't deal with that man right now. Not when there was an upset knot of emotion in his stomach, not when he couldn't seem to breath evenly. Hattori's voice wasn't helping. "Ya can't just run away from me!"

Shinichi stopped, right in the middle of the hallway. The aggravation mounted, turning hot and wild and furious. If Hattori had just left, or apologized, or left things be, Shinichi could have forgiven him. Shinichi could have understood that Hattori had been looking out for his own safety.

But now? Now, Shinichi didn't want to understand. Not when Hattori was chasing him around his own house, still acting like they were _friends._

Shinichi whirled around on his heel. Under his withering glare, Hattori stepped back. "Oh? What about how you ran away?"

Hattori winced. This time, he didn't even pretend to mistake the accusation for anything else. He just stared Shinichi right in the eye, looking so, so tired. "I didn't run away. I had to call for help. But I didn't abandon you." Hattori stepped forward. His gaze was steady, solemn. Shinichi wanted him to stumble, to falter, to show any sign of lying through his teeth. Instead, he steadily insisted, "I wouldn't do that!"

Shinichi narrowed his eyes. Fine, if they were having this conversation, he'd take full advantage of it. He didn't feel like reining himself in or going easy right now. If Hattori wanted to talk, they'd _talk._ Shinichi knew how to _talk._ "But you would lie to me, right? Keep secrets?" This time Hattori flinched, looking guilty. Shinichi didn't stop. Any sympathy, any desire to be understanding or considerate had drained away in the miserable silence of the car. All the old wounds, the frustrations he kept bubbling under his skin, all the little slights he ignored for years and years had been rubbed raw. "Don't try and deny it. I know my father, Hattori. I've put up with his schemes and his mind games my whole life, longer than even Hakuba, and especially longer than you." He knew who really deserved his anger here, knew it wasn't Hattori's fault, not entirely. But Hattori was an accomplice. And _that_ he made perfectly clear. "So if you're here on his behalf, you can go tell him that I don't care whatever he is up to with you guys. If he stays out of my way, I'll stay out of his."

Hattori's shoulder's shot up defensively. "Your dad didn't send me here." He sounded sincere. Shinichi didn't care it he was or not.

"Then why are you here, Hattori?" Shinichi watched Hattori's face carefully. He looked exhausted, and frustrated, but most of all, disappointed. As Shinichi watched, Hattori masked all those feelings, and looked back with a locked jaw and determined eyes.

They both took a breath. Then, Hattori spoke. "You're gonna keep looking into this, aren't ya?"

"Of course." He hadn't ever abandoned an investigation part way through. When Kudo Shinichi caught the scent of a scoop, he followed it all the way back to the source, not matter what got in his way.

Hattori stared him right in the eye. "Despite the evil, superpowered thugs?"

Shinichi couldn't help but smile a little at that. "Despite the evil, superpowered thugs."

Hattori sighed, his shoulders sagging back down in defeat. The sight of it didn't feel like a victory. In fact, all the anger and everything was bleeding away, leaving just tiredness behind. It had been a stressful day. Hattori looked just as weary, but there was steel in his gaze as he said, "then let me help."

Shinichi blinked. "What?"

"I wanna look into this too." A quiet, honest request: a peace offering, another extended hand.

The last vestige of Shinichi's anger stirred. He nearly snarled. "Oh no, you _are_ here for my father! You're here to keep an eye on me!"

"No!" Hattori denied, voice too loud in the hallway. "Please, I know this secret thing is hard. But it's not like there's your dad's side and your side! We aren't against ya, Kudo." It sure felt like it, sometimes. "All that I ask is that you trust us. Just…trust me?" The last bit was spoken quietly again, a whispered plea. Hattori looked earnest.

But Shinichi knew better. "Why should I?"

Hattori stepped closer again. "Because if ya do, then I promise I'll trust ya. Look, just from today, I can already tell that what you're investigatin' is way over your head. I should tell ya to stop and leave it alone. But I'm not. I'm gonna trust ya to make this decision on your own and to take care of yourself. So, we're doin' this together."

"Together?"

"Together." Hattori repeated, voice steady and sure.

"…No." For a moment, Shinichi had almost considered it. But he'd already taken a chance on Hattori. And while Hattori could look him in the eye and offer him a hand, Hattori just as easily looked away and stood back. Something like betrayal still burned in the back of Shinichi's throat. "I just can't. You…you can't have it both ways, Hattori. You can't ask for my trust and lie to my face in same breath. You can't just disappear and then promise you'll be there for me." The image of Ran, smiling apologetically as she lied again was crystal clear in his mind. When Hattori spoke, Shinichi could practically hear Hakuba's reiterating those same words, negotiating for that same trust. He felt his shoulder's slump, and he couldn't find the energy to pull them back up. Hattori's face fell just as easily, twisted with frustration and guilt.

But no regret. And that's what really cemented his decision. "Yeah, I had fun today." It felt important to confess that part. To admit that he'd actually enjoyed working alongside Hattori, until everything went wrong and he was reminded of all the reasons why he worked alone. "The investigating together part was cool. But the rest of it? Just goes to show that it's not gonna work." It never worked. Shinichi just couldn't trust anyone so easily. "See you around."

Walking away and shutting his door behind him was the easiest thing he'd done all day.

* * *

Saguru was not hot-tempered, nor was he easy to rile up. But he did get angry, and more often than not, Hattori Heiji was the object of his ire. His teammate wasn't just reckless and foolhardy, but also destructive, impulsive, and most of all, _messy._

And today's incident? Was beyond messy.

The fact that Hattori had dragged Shinichi into it, or allowed Shinichi to pursue it did not help. Just the thought of it made Saguru's blood boil. When Hattori had called in, claiming Shinichi had been captured by bad guys with guns, Saguru had been tempted to tear his hair out in worry. Only Yuusaku's direct orders had him sitting tight, waiting for Ran to zip back from whatever she was doing in Nagano and give him a lift to the crime scene.

Now that it was over, anxiety was giving way to aggravation. He paced back in forth in the meeting room, while Yuusaku sat serenely in his chair.

"What the hell happened today?" The moment Hattori entered the base, Saguru sprung. The fact that Hattori looked a little wrecked around the edges didn't stop him in the least. "How the hell did you get Shinichi-kun into a firefight?"

Hattori ducked away, somehow finding the energy to bristle up. "I didn't get Shinichi into anythin'!"

So Shinichi had gone there on his own. Of course. If anything, knowing that just pissed Saguru off more. Saguru pushed right back into Hattori's face, too annoyed to be bothered with the boundaries he usually kept. "You know you shouldn't encourage him! Are you foolish?" Hattori's skin darkened with rage, going from brown to the molten black of his empowered form.

A commanding voice broke in and had them springing apart in an instant. "Stop, Saguru-kun. Hattori-kun, what happened today?"

Hattori slumped underneath Yuusaku's disappointed gaze, the strange darkness creeping away. He didn't look ashamed with himself, though, and that made Saguru purse his lips. For a moment, Hattori seemed to deliberate, and then looked right in Yuusaku's eyes with a fierce glare. "We were lookin' inta a couple arson cases together, and then some thugs in bird masks showed up and I had to leave Kudo there alone with them!" His voice started at a reasonable level, but by the end it had risen to a shout. He was scowling furiously. "Because you two insist on this secret identity nonsense!" Then, the anger just seemed to crumble away. Hattori looked down at his feet. "And now he hates me."

Oh.

Saguru let those words, disappointed and defeated, settle in. They were familiar. In them echoed years of bad encounters and stilted conversations, of dinners spent avoided Shinichi's chilly eyes. He was struck, suddenly, with the memory of throwing out his application to Teitan High the day he decided that he wouldn't take the entrance exam.

He didn't want to think about those things, so he focused on something else.

Like Hattori being a complete moron. "You disappeared, and then Heliopause just happened to show up?" That was an amateur mistake, especially for an experienced hero like Hattori. "Hattori, are you stu-"

Hattori looked furious again, cutting in. "What else could I do?"

Saguru felt his eye twitching. "You shouldn't have even brought Shinichi-kun with you in the first place!"

"He would have gone to that warehouse whether I was with him or not!"

"Then you should have stopped him, instead of doing something so reckless and stupid!"

"Stopped him? Do ya seriously think there's a thing in the world that can stop that guy?" Hattori waved a hand in emphasis. "He does whatever he wants!" Saguru opened his mouth to say something else, but he couldn't argue that point.

Hattori continued on, his thick brows furrowed. "Why we gotta keep him so far out of the loop anyway? And don't feed me the same 'it's for his own good bullshit' you feed Ran! It clearly ain't doin' him any favors!" This shout, though, was very clearly directed at Yuusaku.

Saguru clenched his fists in indignation. That sort of disrespect he couldn't allow.

With a strict voice, he reclaimed Hattori's attention. "Hattori, don't be mistaken. What makes you think you're in any position to question Kudo-san's decision?"

Hattori's face flushed. "I-"

"You know nothing." And Hattori didn't. Hattori knew _nothing_ of what Yuusaku did for his son.

Hattori recoiled, still fuming. "Because the two of ya refuse to tell me anything!"

Saguru glared. If he had to lay it out for Hattori, fine, he would. "And you want to know why? Because you can't be trusted. You can't even keep Shinichi-kun out of a case. How could we possibly trust you with anything more than your own secret identity, when you have so much trouble keeping even that secret?"

"I-that's not…" That blow hit hard and left Hattori stuttering. Saguru wished it shut him up entirely.

"That's enough, you two." Once again, Yuusaku's interrupted them. It was frustrating, having to have a disciplinary talk right in front of his mentor with a unruly teammate. He was supposed to be the leader: these were arguments he was should handle on his own.

Yuusuaku, though, didn't seem to mind. He was smiling. "Hattori-kun, none of these matters is any of your concern. Please don't worry about them." Saguru didn't think saying that would do any good. Hattori, like all detectives, couldn't just mind his own business. Still, when Yuusaku said it, it sounded convincing. "You've had a long day, it's probably best you returned home for now."

For a moment, Hattori glared at them both some more. Then, still wearing a defiant scowl, he snapped out a curt "yes sir."

Hattori marched out of the room. Saguru knew that that didn't mean the subject was dropped: it was just postponed. To his retreating back, Yuusaku called, "Thank you for protecting my son."

At those words, Hattori paused. He turned back, looking less angry than before. "I wasn't going to let that liquor creep hurt him."

"Liquor?" Saguru repeated. He had no idea what Hattori was talking about.

"Some metahuman thug called Tequila. He was leading the bird guys."

Saguru glanced back at Yuusaku, who'd brought his steepled fingers up to his mouth contemplatively. "Did you fight him?" Yuusaku asked.

The Osakan didn't answer. There was something strange about how he held himself, like he was uncertain. No, reluctant. "Hattori, what happened?"

Hattori hesitated for a moment longer. Then, he spoke. "He was throwing me around like I was nothing. Then he threatened to take Shinichi, and I lost my cool. I...sort of punched half his face off."

Saguru took in a sharp breath. Dear god.

But Yuusaku didn't even blink. "It's alright, Hattori-kun. You can give us your full report tomorrow. You're dismissed."

Once Hattori left the room, probably starting his long flight home, he turned to his mentor. "That...could have killed his opponent." Saguru said carefully. "Hattori's usually reckless, but not even he would do something so dangerous."

Yuusaku nodded slowly. "Not usually, no."

"You don't think..." He didn't want to say it.

"Yes." Yuusaku's eyes slid shut. He didn't slump or slide down in his chair, but the heavy creases in his brow and the tightening of his fingers were telling enough. For once, Saguru's mentor didn't seem impressive or in control. He looked like a tired middle-aged man.

Saguru hesitated to speak. It felt like blasphemy. "Is there anything we can do about it?"

His mentor hummed noncommittally. It wasn't an answer. Yuusaku didn't know.

Heavy dread settled over Saguru.

The Night Baron was respected worldwide for his fierce intelligence and his peerless problem-solving skills. When the world was facing crisis, its citizens turned to the Overseers for salvation. And when the Overseers faced a catastrophe, they turned to the Night Baron to find the solution. Saguru's mentor had saved the planet many times before, not with brawn, but by tackling cataclysmic problems with ingenuity and efficiency.

But if not even the Night Baron had the answer to _this,_ then who did?

No. Saguru couldn't think like that. Maybe his mentor hadn't found the key yet, but there was still time. They had managed to keep a solid lid on the disaster so far, and would continue to for as long as necessary.

And Saguru had been raised to do what Yuusaku could not. He could find the answer. He just had to look harder for it. There was no such thing as an unsolvable problem, or a question without a satisfactory answer. Mysteries existed to be solved, and issues existed to be addressed.

Separate from his deliberations, Yuusaku stood and pulled on his cloak. Saguru watched curiously as his mentor disappeared behind the heavy black mantle.

Yuusaku fitted the white mask over his face with practiced ease. "I have other matters to attend to, for now."

"Sir?"

"The sooner we handle the security breach, the better."

Anticipation burned suddenly in Saguru's chest, alongside relief. "You'll tell Aoko-kun?"

"No. Not yet, at least. I intend to confront the problem at its root." Saguru straightened, taken by surprise. The Baron almost never went after KID personally; in fact, the Overseers went out of their way to avoid facing the thief.

"Want me to come with?"

"That won't be necessary. I will handle the night patrol alone tonight. You may return home."

He had expected that, but still it made him frown. Being left behind always stung, but when it came to confrontations with KID he found it particularly hard to swallow. "...yes sir."

* * *

It was a cold, clear night, so crisp that the stars were bright in the sky, even in the yellow glow of the Tokyo skyline. The brilliant fluorescent lights of the Tokyo nightlife reached far into the sky, illuminating a dark figure standing atop a skyscraper.

He was blacker than the night, entirely swathed in a dark cloak. Only one feature of his was distinguishable from the shadows of the unlit rooftop: his pure white mask, with its upturned eyes and eerie grin.

Behind him, the moon hung in the sky, waning away from being full by only a handful of days. A drop of white fell from it, splashing across the rooftop in a swirl of rippling cloth. It rose back up, fluttering aside to reveal a man dressed vibrantly in flawless white, face obscured by an ivory top hat and a gleaming monocle.

Kaitou KID grinned. There was nothing friendly about it.

"The Baron came all this way to see me." The thief purred into the darkness. His smile was sharp like a shark's jaw, rows and rows of vicious teeth designed to shred through the toughest of flesh. "What an honor."

The Night Baron turned to face him: only the mask seemed to move, twisting around the still blackness of the rest of his body. The Baron wasted no time with pleasantries. "Turn yourself in." It was a command, harsh and terrifying in the night that was suddenly too quiet.

KID didn't seem to care, leaning forward. His smile only spread wider, a mockery of the empty expression carved in the Baron's mask. "You first, I insist." He curled over in a perfect bow, hellfire bright eyes burning from under the brim of his hat. The fierce, defiant gaze never left the Baron's.

Another mockery: a grotesque charade of gentlemanly manner.

The Baron simply continued on, voice cold and stern. He knew best: for the thief, for the people, for the world. "Whatever you think you're doing, it's wrong. And it's endangering a lot of innocent people."

KID straightened, almost choking on a laugh so coated with derision that it wasn't a laugh at all. "Funny, according to reports, that's all I've ever done."

The Baron took a step forward. "You could have at least left her out of it." He spoke like a judge at his podium: residing over the court, the Baron stood over the accused and all of Tokyo. He loomed over the thief, but he hadn't always. There had been a time that they were the exact same height.

That era had passed, and the world had moved on, Tokyo careening forward in the wake of each new disaster. Humanity's ascension was a tide that never quite stopped rising.

KID's smile fell away, replaced with a mouth curled down with contempt. The facade of politeness had cracked under the strike of the gavel. "You didn't leave her out of it."

"She came to me and asked me to teach her. She chose to be a hero." The Baron did not offer the words as an explanation or a justification. They were simply the truth.

"Those are two very different things." The thief jeered, shoulders rising. It was impossible to tell whether the action was aggressive or defensive. "If she's made her choice, then that's fine. I'll take full advantage of it, since I've already made my own."

For a moment, silence settled between them, a dead end. The Baron was still, impossibly so. It seemed to frustrate the thief. Finally, the Baron spoke again, giving his final decree. "Tell her the truth."

KID didn't acknowledge the finality in the Baron's tone. His own voice was hard and cruel with scorn. "Like you did?" Those three words struck harder than anything else said that evening. The Baron shifted back, just a hair's breadth. The movement was so minute, few would have noticed. But KID had always been one of a kind. "Spare me your hypocrisy. What about my predecessor's murder? Where's the world's greatest detective when that mystery needed to be solved? Where's your truth and justice, when you're the one with blood on your hands? I don't see you coming clean and standing to trial."

"I didn't kill you father." The words resounded in the cold air. The wind picked up, catching in their individual cloaks. Black and white rippled alongside each other with the contrast of the sun peaking over the horizon.

KID snorted derisively. "It was an accident? Bullshit. You know what they call it when you accidently murder somebody? Manslaughter."

Impossibly, the Baron stood taller, a column of unmoving obsidian. He was a bastion that could not be moved. "There were circumstances outside your understanding, that day." The words were delivered like a speech given by the educated to the ignorant, only bereft of fact or explanation. No one cared if the ignorant understood or not, so long as they were quiet in their incomprehension.

KID bristled, the dignity of his regal stance lost in a fury that belied someone much younger than he should have been. "I can't believe this. You don't even sound guilty! You don't even care, do you?"

"No. And neither will she. Your father was the victim of his own crimes, and she will understand that. Tell her the truth, or I will."

KID struck like a viper springing from coil, drawing a silver gun from his coat in a flash of white and blue. The weapon settled against the Baron's chest, threateningly pressing into the dark cloth.

The Baron did not move, unthreatened. "You think you hold all the cards?" KID's voice regained its steady tempo, confident and bold. A showman's voice. He playfully circled the gun's barrel around, prodding. "You think you can drop ultimatums? Well, how's this one. You tell her anything, anything at all, and well..."

He drew back in an instantaneous, fluid movement, dancing back with the wind. The cocky grin returned full force. His finger tightened on the trigger. "I'm not the only one here who wears a mask."

The Baron ducked the razor-sharp card that sprung free from the gun's barrel. Still, it nicked the side his mask, leaving the slightest dent. He'd been distracted by the card's number and suit: the ace of spades. "You cannot-"

KID laughed. "Reveal your identity to the world? No, because you would just reveal mine. No, nothing so dramatic." KID snapped his gloved fingers. In a puff of smoke, the card was back in his hand. He traced his fingers over it fondly, turning it over and over. "You know, I've met your son. He's superb, isn't he? Clever, earnest, and absolutely ruthless." KID's digits graced over the card's sharp edges, tapping in time with his words. The Baron shifted, almost uneasily. "Oh, he's just fantastic. I read his blog too, you know. After all, he always unearths the best dirt." His voice was light, friendly, and almost genuine. The thread of the conversation had almost turned pleasant. KID held the card close to his face, inspecting it appreciatively. Not at all threatening.

But the Baron had gone very tense. KID went on. "You tell her anything, you even mention my name, and I'll tell him everything about you." These words? They were undeniably a threat, and they were delivered with a cold, vicious conviction.

The card was released, fluttering down to the floor. A final poisonous pleasantry was delivered. "Have a wonderful night, Baron." The thief waved jauntily as he wandered towards the building edge. There he paused, with one last thing to say. "Feel free to tell your son I say hi." The patronizing cheerfulness of his voice may as well have been nails on a chalkboard for how it seemed to grate on the Baron's ears.

KID gave one more charming grin before he slipped over the edge, disappearing into the night with nothing more than a flap of cloth in the wind.

The Baron remained a little longer, absently grinning at nothing.

* * *

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers: the real villain is me


	4. Drop to the Floor

Chapter 4: Drop to the Floor

* * *

He started his mornings early, hours before sunrise. And breakfast. He didn't get to breakfast until thirty minutes before school, which was plenty of time to make some toast and throw a couple of eggs into a pan.

When he finally sat down to eat, he was starving. After his morning exercises, the slight quake in his muscles and the heat rushing under his skin was pleasant and cathartic after nights of cold thoughts and colder dreams.

The TV flickered to life, bringing up the national news: not the channel he had last left it on. He huffed a breath into his toast, spraying a couple crumbs across the countertop.

The subconscious mind was such a frustrating thing.

In bright fluorescent colors, the TV created a frustrating picture: a woman with a round, plump face and deep red lipstick, with intelligent eyes glimmering behind her thick rimmed spectacles. Edogawa Fumiyo, official spokeswoman of the ISHA, aka the _Overseers_ , smiled pleasantly, _harmlessly_ , at a crowd. Against the red and blue of the ISHA paraphernalia, she was standing in stark contrast in the velvet green of her suit behind a polished podium. She spoke in clean, unaccented English with a powerful voice, comforting and bold in the face of millions eyes worldwide.

He didn't hear the words she said, too busy trying to breath steadily around the mounting pressure in his gut and the twist of nausea rising up his throat. The rush of hate in his blood and the cold, anxious feeling of his heart beating in his chest was bitter and familiar, like taking a shot of espresso in the morning. Some people drank coffee; he drank his own hate and fear and terrible helplessness.

Then, the spokeswoman was gone.

On screen, Shimizu of TMS was addressing the audience from behind a white table. Behind her was a backdrop of a city street lined with fluorescent signs decorated with vibrant Chinese characters before a sky of glittering skyscrapers, crowded with bodies and picket signs.

"—in the wake of the attack, authorities called in the Overseers to take control of the situation in Hong Kong."  
He swallowed his toast, feeling rough crumbs scrape his throat all the way down. It settled in his gut alongside his simmering rage. The TV screen flashed, changing channels.

Another reporter, this time standing before a familiar propaganda poster of the ISHA, the world's most renown vigilantes lined up before a shining light. "—the protesters were given the order to disperse. When they refused, the Overseers were forced to intervene—"

His eye twitched. He only allowed the movement because he was alone. The channel switched almost instantaneously. "—leaving fifteen dead and thirty injured. The unregistered vigilante responsible has still not been apprehended but authorities assure—"

Anger twisted into disgust.

Not fast enough, a different news channel appeared, just displaying a on-sight reporter standing before a school flying the American flag, speaking in clear, crisp English. A script of subtitles scrolled by on the bottom of the screen. "—a young high-schooler in Minneapolis, Minnesota has been hospitalized. Current witness reports suggest that he was assaulted by a fellow student with possible metahuman abilities—"

The woman disappeared in a burst of white, replaced by two men, displayed in separate boxes on screen, obviously in different locations. They were both glowering at the camera. One was speaking, in a sharp, rushed tone, in unaccented English. "—we can no longer pretend that we don't have a discrimination problem in this country! These metahuman kids are persecuted and bullied until they lash out—"

The other interrupted in a burst of agitation, arguing right back. "Threatening an entire class of middle-schoolers in not just lashing out! This kid is obviously dangerous and unstable—"

Kids shouldn't be dragged into this. The media had no business arguing about the actions of children on international news.

He reached for a glass of water to wash the crumbs out of his mouth. The next channel didn't last even more than second."—Overseers—" A second was already too much.

His hand tightened on the glass.

Metahumans. Always throwing their weight around.

"—crime rates in Tokyo have been increasing exponentially for years now. There's been a significant increase in supernatural incidents over these past three years. Statisticians and social scientists have been baffled by this unprecedented phenomenon, and while theories are being presented, we still have very little idea as to why—"

Government scientists, always looking in the wrong directions. It's like they didn't even want to find a solution. "—thankfully, the Overseers have risen admirably to protect—"  
Or maybe they really believed they'd already been handed one. Idiots. "—we can only thank the Overseers for their incredible acts of altruism and bravery—"

They'd get a solution, alright. Whether they wanted one or not.

"—the next generation of heroes—" _Heroes_ , they said.

"—I don't feel threatened. I know the Overseers will protect us—" The _Overseers._

"—I mean, you couldn't have the Overseers without metahumans—" _Overseers. Overseers. Overseers._

The screen turned black with a static sound. Kaito relaxed his fist, easing the tension out of his fingers. He should know better by now, like his mom, than to watch the news. His mom had wanted to throw the TV out entirely when he moved back in, but he had insisted on keeping it in case any friends came over. He had told her he would be fine, he wouldn't watch it.

His acting skills must have finally caught up to hers, because she believed him.

With a sigh, he booted up his laptop and brought up a web browser, clicking on a site saved in his favorites.

Kudo Shinichi's website had a simple, stylish design and was easy to navigate. Some days, Kaito felt like it was the only reputable news source left in Tokyo.

Or maybe he was biased, because _wow,_ was Shinichi hard on _heroes_.

On the front-page were the day's links to numerous news articles Shinichi recommended, each one coupled with his own personal commentary. Front and center was Shinichi's own most recent column, a reaction to the same matter the TV had mentioned: the protest that had torn apart Hong Kong in the wake of a metahuman attack.

He scrolled down, noting the familiar headlines of Shinichi's original articles. All of the links were purple.

**City Council Meets to Amend Upcoming Insurance Proposition**

**Disaster Recovery Efforts In Tokyo Begin**

**Irregulars Confront Threat in Tokyo: Damages Estimated in Millions**

**Giant Burns Through Downtown Tokyo: Emergency Broadcast**

**Sakura Loom Responsible for Deaths of Workers in India**

**Community Mourns Loss of Beloved Baker**

**Homicide: Baker of Popular Cafe Murdered**

**KID Announces Heist—**

_-to be on the same day as police conference.  
Kaitou 1412 announced his plans for his next heist last night by hacking into the MPD's website and posting a notice, along with a variety of unflattering pictures of prominent law enforcers. Notably, the declared heist will be held two weeks from now in London, correlating with an upcoming International Police Conference hosted by the European Union. In all likelihood, this is not a coincidence, or rather, this is a challenge to the police. More than that, this may be another attempt by KID to provoke the Overseers. As I have theorized before, KID, since his resurrection, has been challenging the Overseers to confront him directly. As of yet, though, the Overseers have yet to act in response to the revival of Kaitou 1412, beyond a handful of official statements full of coded language and red tape that the average citizen would have difficulty dissecting. Aversion tactics, as if the triumphant return of the world's most famed thief was a unpalatable trend that will eventually blow over. Thankfully, the media has not been so tight lipped._

_Before his revival, KID often clashed with the International Superhero Association, particularly the Night Baron. However, after the skirmish and resulting accident of the 13th of February nine years ago, Kaitou KID disappeared entirely from the public eye..._

_Response: Kaitou KID Thrashes Teen Heroes; Steals 400 Million Yen Diamond_

_Overseers Do Not Respond to KID's Challenge—and instead send in their sidekicks._

He smirked as he reread the blurb. It was nice to know his intentions hadn't flown completely over everyone's heads. Like all mischief-makers, he lived for the reveal, to know that someone had unraveled the riddle and discovered the intention inside. He glanced at the time as he opened the full article, slightly disappointed to see that it was nearing the hour. Time for school.

* * *

The walk to school felt a little surreal. There was something weird about spending a whole week skipping around the world, saving lives and taking down bad guys, and then having to go back to her ordinary high school like nothing at all interesting happened over break. Her school uniform felt too loose and too vulnerable, completely impractical in comparison to the comfortable costume she had taken to wearing after joining the team.

Hakuba's presence grounded her a bit, and made the transition a bit easier. He did not usually walk to school, but she liked to think the reason he made an exception today was for her own comfort and to help her adjust to the shift. She was grateful for it, because even after a day of rest, her muscles still ached with over-exertion, and her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

But he seemed worried this morning, his usual polite attentiveness overwhelmed by concern, if the creases in his forehead were anything to go by.

"Are you thinking about Saturday?" She asked, once the quiet became too much. They were still a good five minutes away from the school, where they wouldn't be able to have this kind of conversation.

Hakuba granted her an apologetic smile. "Yes. I'm sorry, but something about what Shinichi-kun said is bothering me a bit." Shinichi-kun. She felt strange when she heard Hakuba call their mentor's son by his first name, considering when speaking to the other boy directly, he always said 'Kudo-kun'.

"About the missing kid?"

He nodded. "He seems to think the incidents are related. Why? It seems to just be coincidence."

"Well, it makes a better story, I guess."

"Shinichi-kun is not the type to give in to sensationalism." There Aoko had to agree. Kudo was a brutally honest person, especially for a reporter. He seemed to take a great deal of pride in exposing the truth for all to see, never once chasing after the silly, unconfirmed stories other news people chased like wolves. But at the same time, no story was too small or too cruel for Kudo to publish, or at least as far as she knew. Additionally, he always seemed to jump from a single, untelling observation to a confident conclusion, and then chased the idea to its eventual fruition.

"Yeah, but he's always making strange connections from little details." She had never once heard of him being wrong, but...

"True."

"Though, you do that too." Hakuba wasn't too different from the other sharp-minded boy in that manner.

Hakuba sniffed, offended. "I do not. And it's a detective's job to always be attentive to the smallest details and to make deductions based on observations."

Aoko frowned, because, honestly, she hated how her teammate, and leader, put that particular philosophy into action. "And Kaito must be Kaitou KID because he's smart and can do magic tricks." Just the mere suggestion of her best friend, since she was just a little girl, the boy who gave her a rose on the first day he met her to cheer her up, being a super villain, of all things, was enough to upset her. Kaito was mischievous, but he certainly wasn't evil.

"That's not my reasoning." Hakuba denied, but wisely didn't pursue the issue further, lest Aoko found herself a mop and started swinging (she would never live that one down, would she?).

She knew she had a tendency to get unfairly angry when Hakuba brought it up, but some part of her couldn't help but feel it was justified, considering just how cruel Hakuba's suspicions were. Maybe that was also unfair, because Hakuba didn't know, didn't have any reason to know, why his theory was so disturbing.

So she didn't continue either, carefully setting her jaw shut and ignoring the burning of her eyes. She hadn't even intended to start a fight about it.

So they... just stopped talking.

They were approaching the school gates, anyway, where topics like that were dangerous territory.

In their homeroom, Kaito sat at his desk, reading something on his phone with a bored expression. Briefly, his eyes flickered towards them, a flash of something there, and then back down. And suddenly, she felt guilty. She had been so busy over the spring break that she hadn't managed to fulfill any of the plans they had made. She hadn't even been able to go see the new Gamera with him, like she had promised she would.

But when she sheepishly approached his desk, he set down the phone with a grin and twinkling eyes. Just like that, she couldn't help but feel like she was already forgiven.

"Well, if it isn't the missing lady! Where have you been?" The magician teased, showing off his best mischievous smirk by leaning over the desk towards her.

"Sorry," she grinned right back, "but Kudo-sensei took us to a crime prevention convention all the way in London! It was so cool!"

Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. They had gone, to intervene a 'mass-contamination of law officers with hallucinogenic gas' scheme. After that mess was done, there had even been time for an attempt at capturing KID during his heist the next day. Though, admittedly, that had been a rather embarrassing disaster.

But she would get that damn thief next time.

"Really, you were in London?" Something she didn't like flickered in Kaito's eyes. Suddenly, she regretted mentioning London. "Did you go to the KID heist?" The question was casual, not even a hitch, but lacked some of the usual exuberance she once associated with Kaito's every movement.

For a second, she hesitated to answer. "Yeah. I got to see the Irregulars almost catch him."

"Now I know you didn't go." Kaito clicked his tongue, picking up his phone and showing her the screen. A familiar news site clearly presented an article reading "Kaitou KID Thrashes Teen Heroes; Steals 400 Million Yen Diamond".

Aoko deflated. It was frustrating seeing such reports when they all worked so hard. She wanted to catch the longtime and infamous super villain: for her father, for Kaito, for the taskforce, and for Hakuba too. It was the whole reason she joined the Irregulars in the first place. She wanted to be able to say she was in the hero business just to help people and fight monsters like the other day, but in the end, she still had to go home to a lonely house and hope her father didn't get spend all night uselessly going over the same reports again. If she caught KID, all that would come to an end. They could have time as a family again, and maybe Kaito would finally be able to smile the same way he used to.

But so far she'd proven to be better at taking down monsters than thieves.

"Don't look so down." Kaito's voice brought her back to homeroom. "KID's gone uncaught for over two decades. A bunch of amateurs like the Irregulars didn't stand a chance. They should have just left it to the big shots." Kaito slumped back, lackadaisical and careless. The cold steel in her eyes made her mouth go dry. "But I guess the Overseers are just too busy to care about something like that."

The lazy, uncaring sourness in his voice almost made her flinch. She bit the inside of her lip, drawing into herself, trying to think of a way to disagree without being… inconsiderate.

"The Overseers would be foolish to waste their time with the likes of KID. And, I think what the Irregulars did was admirable." Aoko jolted, turning to find Hakuba a meter away, and flushed. She had been so happy to see Kaito after the long break that she'd forgotten Hakuba was even there. He smiled at her, proud and comforting. She couldn't help but stand taller. "Not to mention what happened Saturday."

"Well, it wouldn't be Tokyo if there wasn't some kind of giant monster wrecking havoc." Kaito muttered sarcastically. He had a point, with the rising number of disasters, natural and not, they'd all been growing desensitized over the past few years. It all had seemed so big and out of her control, and yet so far away before she'd developed powers that Aoko had never paid it much more thought than she would a monsoon or earthquake. Now, though, she could move water with her mind and fought super villains after school. "The Overseers didn't even show up for that either."

Hakuba's lips were drawn in a tight line. "I'm sure they felt there was no need."

Aoko knew exactly where this conversation was going, but couldn't bring herself to stop it.

"Well, they've been wrong before. Didn't you guys watch Kudo's broadcast?" Kaito's handsome features settled into an aggravated sneer. It was an expression she had difficulty getting used, when Kaito first came back to Ekoda. Now, it was familiar and didn't bother her as much. "Not that I think the Overseers themselves could have done much better. Who knows, they might have just wrecked more of the city." Kaito's voice was rising near the end of his accusation, catching attention from their peers. Some of their classmates had been watching already. Shoulders tensed defensively all around the room.

Aoko winced as Keiko came up to her side, frowning and shouldering Hakuba out of the way. "Geez, Kuroba, you're always like this." Almost everybody Aoko knew was an Overseers fan, almost zealously so. So was she, in some ways. Everybody knew somebody who knew somebody who'd life had been saved because a selfless hero had put himself or herself in danger instead. "Shouldn't we all just be grateful that the Overseers risk their lives to protect us?"

Kaito rolled his eyes, exaggerating the movement. "Sorry if I don't buy into the brainwashing our super powered police state tries to spoon-feed us."

Around the room, people bristled, glaring at Kaito with unveiled resentment. Aoko intervened before things could get any worse, keeping her voice light but firm in an effort to disperse some of the tension building in the room. "Nobody's being brainwashed, Kaito. I think it's a good thing people look up to heroes. The world needs more of them."  
Kaito's dark, brilliant eyes turned back to her, gleaming. "Oh, would you join the Overseers if you had a chance, Ahoko?"

She felt her face turn red and her shoulders rose. "Of—of course!" she stuttered, looking around the room for help. "Who wouldn't?"

Her classmates all agreed heartily, nodding with grin. In an instant, the room for flooded by conversation, everyone excitedly chattering in each other's ears.

"Man, what I'd give to be an Overseer!"

"And to have super powers!"

"I've dreamed about that ever since I was a little kid!"

In the mounting chaos of laughter and teenage fancy, Kaito stood from his desk and began to saunter towards the door, face pulled in a scowl. "Kaito!" She called after him, following.

He gave her a bemused look, pinching his brows together. "I'm just going to the bathroom before class starts."

She didn't believe that. "Okay," she said anyway. The next words she said with no small amount of trepidation, biting the inside of her lip in between breathes. "But...you know what happened to your dad wasn't the Overseers fault, right? It was that awful thief's fault." Kaito's eyes met hers, saturated and dark, and his face gave nothing away. She struggled to find what she wanted to say, around the burning in her chest. "The Overseers work hard to stop stuff like that. To...make sure nobody else has to grow up without a father." The words seemed to choke her on the way up. "Or a mother."

For a moment there was silence. Kaito studied her face, as if measuring how much she really believed that. His eyebrows went up, a soft, questioning expression. "Then why don't they catch him, Aoko?"

His voice, prompting, hurt. "They're trying!" The burning in her eyes was just from the bad air quality, she told herself as she tried to reign her emotions back in. "I'm...sure they're trying."

Kaito pierced her with a look, dark and pitying, like she was a stupid kid who didn't understand the realities of the world. "Whatever." He muttered, turning away, but she didn't need to see his face to recognize the disdain in his voice. "They're all nothing but cowards and freaks." She watched his back as he moved down the hall, something hot and heavy rising in her throat.

"You're not the only one who's lost somebody, Kaito!" The words burst out before she could swallow them back down, and they rang through the empty hall.

Her next breath tasted like ash in her mouth.

Just the stupid air pollution.

Settling back down at her desk felt like admitting defeat, and she distracted herself with messing with her backpack so she wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes. Somewhere in front of her, Hakuba was looming and gesticulating quietly. "You can't say it's not suspicious!"

"Oh, come on, Hakuba-kun." Her words came out with only half the brevity she meant them to have. "He just says all that to be contrary and rile everyone up." Kaito was that kind of infuriating guy. "It's like when he supports the rival baseball team, or makes fun of new trends. Or... when he plays Devil's advocate for the antimetas. He just likes to get on people's nerves. Kaito doesn't mean half the stuff he says." And if he was cruel about how he went about it… that was practically expected. Because Kaito was angry and lashing out at a world that couldn't seem to find a place for him.

Hakuba snorted ungracefully, disdain coloring his tone. "We're in agreement there, Aoko-kun, but I think we have very different ideas of which half."

Aoko bit her lip and busied herself with pulling out her notebook and pencil case.

* * *

Shinichi knew the Tokyo MPD main headquarters probably too well for a second year high-school student. He'd been here a least one a month for as long as he could remember, usually to follow up on witness reports or provide the police with evidence from one of his investigations, but sometimes for questioning.

Today, it was somewhere between the first and last.

Fine, so maybe Shinichi had been illegally trespassing.

But Hattori had apparently kept his mouth shut about the whole lock picking business, so things didn't look too bad.

Takagi tapped his pen on his police notebook nervously, eyes shifting from the page to Shinichi's eyes with slight trepidation. Behind him, slouching in a chair in the back of the room, a larger, rougher man was fiddling with a toothpick, worrying it between his teeth.

Takagi made a sound, drawing Shinichi's attention back to himself. "Ah, Kudo-kun, what makes you say these, uh, birdmen are kidnapping children again?"

Shinichi felt his mouth twitch in disdain at the officer's summary. As if such a complicated situation could be summed up so simply. But if there was one thing Shinichi knew, it was how to use his words, and how to use them with such certainty that skeptics wasted so much time searching for his doubts that they forgot about their own. "I told you, runaway kids have been disappearing for months now. That warehouse was one of the sights some of them were last seen, and it was rigged up as a trap."

Takagi chuckled. It was a weak sound. "Come on, Kudo-kun, you know something like that is hard to believe…" The officer's almost jocular voice faded underneath Shinichi's smothering glare.

Takagi's partner leaned back in his chair, posture casual, but his eyes were sharp, meeting Shinichi's gaze head-on even when Takagi backed down. Date Wataru was the image of a good cop, reliable and tough and just rough enough around the edges to be intimidating. He was the sandpaper on Takagi's flipside. And when he spoke, it was with a hard, firm voice. "The kids could just have moved elsewhere in the city, because of all the recent fires. Some of them went home. Nobody has actually seen anyone getting kidnapped."

"No," Shinichi had to acquiesce that. There were no witnesses, or if there had been, they'd disappeared in the ashes of each blaze. "But they definitely were kidnapped."  
Date didn't look impressed. "What makes you so sure?" Not for the first time, Shinichi wished Date wasn't in the room. Manipulating Takagi was much easier when his more keen partner wasn't hanging around being skeptical.

He had felt it. But he couldn't tell them that. Metaphysical psychic visions and invasions weren't considered viable evidence in court, because of the difficult matters of mental illness, freedom of thought, and the right to privacy. "Look, I have pictures of one of the other warehouses." Shinichi had learnt from an early age that photographic or recorded evidence was the only kind that would make it in both the public eye and the courtroom. He fished his fresh prints out of his pocket, pushing the glossy photos over the table for Takagi to see. The officer glanced over them, uncomprehending.

"This just looks like a soon to be condemned building to me, Kudo-kun..."

"Pay attention to the footsteps in the dust and the graffiti. None of these match the styles of gangs in the city—"

Takagi interrupted, shaking his head. "Looks right to me...sorry." Shinichi could feel the heavy weight of Date's no bullshit stare and bit the inside of his lip. Takagi was usually very open and credulous to his thoughts and theories, but today it almost seemed like the officers in the station were resolved to discourage and dismiss him.

Resisting the urge to express his frustration, Shinichi switched tactics. "Tequila said they were there to pick something up, that they had a quota to meet. They were talking about city kids." A quota for children: the concept itself was inherently terrifying, and just got worse the more he thought about it.

Takagi hesitated uncertainly, briefly glancing back at this partner. Date, taking his cue, stood up and came to the table. He leaned over the edge, first glimpsing at the photos, then meeting Shinichi's glare with steady, certain eyes. "They could have been talking about anything. Probably drugs."

Drugs.

Tequila _hadn't_ been talking about drugs. But the word did catch Shinichi's attention. Drugs, pharmaceuticals, experiments...

Unaware of the new turn Shinichi's thoughts had taken, the two officers exchanged a quick series of glances and motions, obviously communicating in a way only longtime teams managed to. Regaining confidence, Takagi straightened with a tight, uncomfortable smile. "Look, Kudo-kun, you had a stressful day yesterday, and you've been working a lot recently. You're tired and stressed, and it's making you come to wild conclusions. I'm sure if you take a break and relax, you'll come to realize that there's no evidence of these incidents being related."

Shinichi kept careful control over his expression, forcing all the anger and aggravation out of his face. He didn't _need_ platitudes. He didn't _need_ a break. He needed someone to help him find over two-dozen kidnapped children and bring the monsters that hurt and terrorized them to justice. With his mouth set in a firm line, he refused to show just how desperate he was. "I'm not being irrational, Detective Takagi."

The officer's gaze was earnestly concerned, but Shinichi couldn't stand how it reminded him of Ran's worried glances and secretive eyes. Takagi's voice was just as fretful. "You fell out of a helicopter on Saturday, didn't you? Are you sure you're alright?"

He had forgotten about the helicopter, actually. How come he was the only one who could see what was important in this damn city? "Just a hazard of my work. I'm _not_ traumatized, Detective."

"Nobody's saying you are." Takagi's voice was placating and well practiced. Obviously, it was something he learned comforting kids and anxious parents. "But these kinds of near death experiences can have serious affects, Kudo-kun. If you need to talk with someone—"

His carefully controlled temper snapped free, and suddenly Shinichi was standing. The chair behind him clattered, almost tipping over to the floor. The next words came out too loud, too vicious. "I need to talk with someone, alright. I need to talk to you, the police, about this kidnapping ring!"

Date's hand slammed down on the table, and both he and Takagi flinched away from it. There was a finger in his face suddenly, Date towering over him even from the other side of the table, Date's rugged features twisted into something commanding and fierce. "There is no kidnapping ring, kid! Just you, working yourself up over some strung together conspiracy theory!"

Conspiracy?

_Conspiracy?_

If there was a conspiracy, it wasn't about the machinations of the birdmen!

Shinichi took a breath, and recognized defeat. Continuing to fight this would just hurt his own case. From the start, there was nothing he could do to convince these men. They had decided he was wrong from the beginning—no, _someone_ had told them he was wrong. Or at least told them to make sure he _thought_ they thought he was wrong.

Ugh, he was so going to write a nasty column about this.

Shinichi retook his seat, forcing a casual posture. Both Date and Takagi stared at him, caught off guard by his apparent nonchalance. And, no doubt, they were suddenly feeling awkward for losing their cool.

They weren't the only ones that could play mind games. And they certainly didn't get to be the ones who walked out of the room feeling mature.

He let the silence reign for a moment, giving both officers a chance to collect themselves. Then, he prompted, "so what's going to happen to the case of the birdmen?"  
Takagi notably relaxed, looking relieved. While the detective could handle himself in high-tension situations, he'd always been weak to social confrontation: he took the reprieve Shinichi offered almost gladly. "The Overseers have requested jurisdiction over it. It'll be handed over to them, probably."

He hid how that rankled him. If the Overseers were going to be handling the case, then even if it was properly investigated, Shinichi would never know the full details. He'd get the same watered-down version they fed the rest of the public.

Not that the regular police were likely to throw him a bone this time around either. Shinichi slumped back in his seat with an aggravated sigh. It was hopeless, without evidence, nobody would listen to him.

"You're lucky Heliopause got there when he did, Kudo-kun. We're all glad you're alright."

Evidence. His camera was in evidence. "What about my camcorder?"

"What?"

"Is my camcorder all right?"

Takagi blinked, furrowing his brows in confusions. "No—no, it's in pieces. Melty pieces. It's, uh, probably unfixable."

Shinichi had figured as much, but… "And the memory card?"

"Also ruined."

Of course. "Everything on it's completely irretrievable?"

Takagi checked the notes on his clipboard, then shook his head. "Sorry. We couldn't get anything off it."

The police couldn't, but Shinichi had connections they didn't. Maybe Professor Agasa could get something off the card, and if not, Shinichi had _other_ resources. "When can I expect to get it back?"

Takagi stared at him, mouth hanging open. "You want it back?"

"Yes."

"Well, uh, we weren't expecting you—" Both officer's phones buzzed in unison. They looked at each other, then Date checked his while Takagi turned back to Shinichi. "I mean, it's evidence. And the ISHA investigators will probably want it. They might be able get more from it than we will."

Great. "And then?" Date frowned at his phone, expression grave. With a headshake to the door, a clear message of _we have to get going_ to Takagi, he was out of the room.

Takagi watched him go, obviously wary of whatever news they'd received. Distracted, he answered, "We'll get it back for you. Promise." If the Overseers were taking his camera too, it'd be _months_ before Shinichi saw it again. Takagi stood from his chair and gathered his clipboard. "Listen, I have _got_ to get going. No—no more breaking into ware— _anywhere._ No more of that. And try, _try_ to stay out of trouble. Please. I don't think Inspector Megure's blood pressure can take much more of this."

Megure's blood pressure. Ha. It would take a lot more than high blood pressure to take down _Megure_.

But Shinichi recognized a dismissal when he was given one. He gave Takagi a quick noncommittal nod, and watched the officer hurry back into the hall. Outside, the station had gotten considerably more busy, officers and office workers hurrying around with tense faces and _lots_ of urgent commanding voices.

Something was going on.

Good. He needed to get his camera back, and he needed a new scent to chase.

Thankfully, he knew exactly where to find the evidence locker. And where better to _accidently_ overhear bad news than the MPD Headquarters?

Three minutes later, his thoughts were rushing as he listened in on a furious conversation: "There's been a break in. A security guard called in, saying that a large group of men with guns and armor were busting in—"

A break in at a military research lab.

Shinichi paused. Two other research labs had been robbed months ago, in quick succession. One private pharmaceutical company, the other a Chemical Engineering building affiliated with Touou University. By the time the police had arrived at one, the other was already being cracked open.

Now, a high-security facility under the protection of the Japanese military was being hit. The timing was strange, since the sun had just set, and the night was only barely setting in. It was still early.

Shinichi grabbed his phone, pulling up the military base's address, and put in a quick search.

* * *

They had stayed together as school let out: Aoko followed Kaito out of Ekoda High and into the denser streets of the city. Some part of Aoko felt the need to make up for the morning, and the rest of her just wanted to spend more time with Kaito.

Now, hours later and their homework done, the tension of the morning seemed to have slipped out of him entirely, his trademark easy going slouch falling over his shoulders easily, and the harsh edges of his face seemed to soften in the hazy evening sun. She liked this Kaito best: elfish and relaxed, slotting into his environment like the world was made just for him.

He caught her looking, deep indigo eyes finding hers. A little flustered, Aoko scrambled for something to say. "What did you do over break, while I was gone?" It was a fair question. She still felt badly about leaving him alone for the entire break, since he rarely ever went out with anyone else.

Kaito shrugged carelessly, inspecting the store windows they walked by. Whether he noticed her embarrassment or just didn't care wasn't clear. He had a way of seeming disconnected from everything, even when melding perfectly into a crowd. "Worked on some new tricks, mostly, and visited my mom."

Aoko blinked. She hadn't realized that she wasn't the only one to leave the country. "Is she still planning to stay in Las Vegas?" Kaito's mother, Chikage, was a distant, vague figure in Aoko's mind. While she'd seen the woman often when she was a child, it had been years since then. But Aoko would always remember how easily Kaito's mother could get her laughing until her sides ached. Sadly, that jolly woman wasn't the one trapped in her memory these past few years: instead, Aoko's clearest memory was of the tall, black figure of a widow standing before a grave.

Kaito hummed. "I don't think she ever intends to come back."

"Oh…" Aoko tried not to sound too disappointed. When Kaito had suddenly moved back into his old house two years before, Aoko had been expecting his mother to not be far behind. "Why did you? Come back, I mean." Losing was parent was hard enough, but leaving the other at such a young age? She couldn't even imagine leaving her dad to live on her own, and her dad wasn't even the most present father around.

Kaito smiled, just a little, and gave the city street a fond look over, his eyes lingering on the tall, dark figure of the clock tower on the horizon. "I like Japan more than America, I guess. I never really thought over there as home, you know?" But as he looked away from the tower, back towards east, the corners of Kaito's lips turned down, just slightly. "And, I...I didn't want to run from it anymore. I want to face it head on." His eyes focused on the shadows of Tokyo is the distance, all towering skyscrapers and sharp steel edges.

Aoko took a step closer to him, bumping his shoulder with her own. "I'm glad you came home. I missed you, you know." She'd said the words before, and she'd probably say them again, but it always felt important to say them.

Kaito turned back to her with a laugh, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "Don't be so cheesy, Aoko!"

He nudged her right back playfully, fingers prodding towards her hips to tickle her with a mischievous grin. Giggling, she pushed him away, trying to control her breath enough to pretend to huff.

These were the moments that made it all seem worth it: that made the rest of the world and all its ensuing responsibilities and fears fade away.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, sharp and urgent. Instantly, she sobered, and Kaito pulled away.

A message from Hakuba, sent to the entire team: there had been another lab robbery, and the detective was sure the culprits were going to strike again.

"I need to make a call," she said as she moved away at a run, aiming for the less populated alleyway down the street. Thankfully, Kaito didn't follow, and instead pulled out his own phone.

A relief, because she had _no_ idea how to explain the conversation she was about to have.

She activated the comms hidden in her earrings, swinging them up into her ears and was immediately met with a flurry of conversation.

"Got any ideas where they're hittin' next?" Kazuha's voice was sharp, urgent, but still had a unnerving echo that was somehow worse over comms. Times like this, it made Aoko queasy.

Hakuba hummed. He sounded less concerned than Kazuha, managing a tone that sat perfectly between relaxed and serious, like he had everything under control. "Too many possibilities to say for sure. Every lab in Tokyo is a target. But I think I've narrowed the list down to the most likely hits."

"How many you got?" Hattori was on the line as well, and Aoko would bet Ran was listening in too. She'd probably been the last to enter the conversation.

"Four." That was still too many.

"And there's five of us. How should we split up?"

Hakuba paused, just for a moment, before he answered. "Ran and Aoko will pair up—"

"What?" Aoko yelped into the mic before she could stop herself, aggravation prickling her nerves all over again. "Hakuba-kun, Ran should go with you!" She didn't need a babysitter! Especially if Kazuha was being allowed to go alone, despite having been on the team for a couple months longer than Aoko herself.

Hakuba's voice turned stern, "Aoko-kun, you're not supposed to be going solo—" _Not supposed to_ do this, not supposed to do that. She hated being underestimated.

"I can handle myself! I've got superpowers! A bunch of thieves will be no problem." Probably. She'd been doing really well, the past couple of weeks! And had practically saved the day on Saturday, even if her performance hadn't been perfect. And Hattori had been the one to screw up yesterday, and he still got to act solo.

Hakuba made a frustrated sound, like a teacher faced with a disobedient student. But before he could speak, and maybe yell at her, Ran's calm voice cut in, soft and reasonable. "How about you two team up, then?"

It was a better suggestion, she had to admit: Aoko had the superpowers, and Hakuba had the combat skill and training.

It was good enough for Hakuba, at least, but maybe he just didn't want to waste anymore time arguing about it. "Fine. Aoko and I will take Nanyo University. The rest of you, split up the other three locations. Aoko, I'll meet you there." There was no room for any more protests. Aoko frowned, knowing no one could see it, and tried to ignore the sulky feeling in her gut. But it was quickly fading anyway, with the buzz of adrenaline and nerves of a mission.

"Got it." She affirmed and cut the comm connection, turning back out of the alleyway to find Kaito on the other side of the street, leaning against a storefront window, still playing with his phone. She hurried across to him, picking up her pace into a run, already planning the fastest way to the university. "Sorry, Kaito, but I have to go!"

He looked up as she rushed right past him. "Wha—hey! Aoko!"

She felt a little guilty, ditching him half way through their day together, but _this?_ This was important. _She_ was doing something important. Something that mattered.

And that made it worth it.

Except, apparently Kaito wasn't, uh, getting the message. He appeared by her side, matching her pace easily, as if they were just on a jog. "Hey, hold up! What's the problem, where you headed?"

She barely glanced at him, instead focusing on finding the subway station. "I have get to Nanyo University right now!"

_There!_ The stairs down under the road came into sight on the next corner, and she took the steps four at a time, dodging in between less-than-pleased commuters.

"Watch it!" Someone snarled as she barreled her way to the ticket machines, Kaito still hot on her heels. Hell, he was outpacing her, slitting through obstacles like it was easy.  
Even as she struggled with the ticket dispersal, he was already through the turntables, calling back to her. "What for?"

Shit. Why would she be going to a university all of a sudden? What was it Hattori always said? When in doubt, blame Kudo-sensei. Right. "Uhh, a seminar!" The machine finally spat out her ticket. She ripped it free and all but jammed into the turntables. "I completely forgot that Kudo-sensei wanted us to attend a seminar there today. If I go now, I should still make it!"

She tried to hurry right past Kaito again, but he popped right back into view. "I'll come with you!"

"What? No!" Her answer came too sharply, trying to figure out which line she wanted. Kaito caught her arm and dragged her over to a train waiting on the left. The doors were about to close, but they seemed to pause just long enough for them to slip through."

She glared at Kaito as the train lurched into motion, but he just grinned back, completely unrepentant.

"Why not? I've been meaning to check the place out anyway. And I'm not sure you'll actually _get_ there without me." She would have figured it out eventually! Just, maybe not in time to make the right train. Not knowing how to argue, she looked elsewhere, out the windows into the darkness, at the other passengers, at Kaito's fingers tangled in one of the canvas handles hanging from the roof. He had such strong hands, a little rough, a little too defined. A workman's hands.

He filled the silence for her, unquestioning. That, at least, she was grateful for. "We're lucky it's so close by."

Something told her she wasn't getting rid of him anytime soon. Hakuba was going to _kill_ her. "Ye—yeah..."

* * *

Kaito got them to the university in record time, that is, until they reached the front gates, which were very obviously locked. From within the guard booth, a man in a cap and badge glared at them as Kaito argued with him uselessly. "Look, you can't come in." The guard grumbled, obviously tired.

Aoko tapped her foot impatiently, and bit her lip. She tried to give the guard her best innocent look, widening her eyes in the way that always worked for Kazuha. "But there's this seminar I really have to be at and-"

The guard wasn't having any of it. "That's just too bad. It's getting late, classes are ending, and the campus is on level 1 lockdown. Only students and faculty with ID are allowed on campus right now." Great, she was going to have to break in. Though, this was a convenient chance to leave Kaito behind and change into costume.

Just as she was contemplating the best thing to say, a new voice called out from behind the gate. "Ah, is that you, Aoko-san?" Another guard was hurrying towards them, badge glinting in the low light of the falling twilight.

The guard in the booth frowned at his fellow. "You know this kid, Miwa-san?"

Miwa! She remembered him as one of the many officers she met over the years. He had worked with her father for a while, and had always been nice to her, even letting her dress-up in gear or teaching her the ropes.

"Yes. She's Inspector Nakamori's daughter. I met her back when I worked on the KID taskforce a year ago." Miwa smiled at her, nodding. "What are you doing here, Aoko-san?"  
This was really a stroke of good luck. "There's a seminar I need to get into today for my job."

"Really? Well, what's the harm? Let's let them in, Nishiki-san."

Finally, a stroke of luck. Aoko could hardly believe it. Miwa led them through campus at a jaunty pace, but Aoko had no idea where exactly they were being led. "Hey, Miwa-san, what's going on? Why's the campus of lockdown all of a sudden?"

Miwa made a face. "We got a tip saying that we are gonna be targeted by those guys robbing research labs. We don't think the tip is real, but considering what's going on at the military base, we figured better safe than sorry."

Kaito perked up immediately. "Who was the source?"

"You two won't believe this, but they claimed to be Kudo Shinichi on the phone."

"Kudo Shinichi?" Aoko squeaked, embarrassingly. Thankfully, Kaito did too. "Really?"

"The boss is a big fan of his blog, so I think that's the only reason we're giving it any credit at all." A beeping interrupted, calling Miwa's attention to his radio. He gave them an apologetic smile. "Sorry, kids. Gotta get back to work." They watched him hurry away, unashamedly listening. "Miwa, here...What? The Overseers called?"

Kaito's shoulders tightened. For a moment, she felt dread drip down her back. But Kaito relaxed and turned back to her with an easy smile. "Guess we'd better get to that seminar, huh?"

Aoko tried to hide her relief, and led them inside the first building she landed eyes on. She had no idea what department this building hosted. "Ye-yeah. Actually, Kaito, why don't you go on ahead and get us seats? I need to run to the bathroom."

"Sure. What room is it?"

"Uh…" This was a terrible idea. Oh god, she was going to have some serious explaining to do once this was over. "Room 4067!" Please, let this place have that many rooms. "On, uh, the fifth floor? I'll catch up to you there!"

Kaito gave her a look. "Fifth floor? Hey, Aoko, hold on! This building has only got four floors!"

But Aoko was already gone.

* * *

Figuring out which lab was the next target had been the easy part. There had been four likely targets, all relatively low security university labs, with three kilometers of the military lab. Three he disregarded due to the heavy traffic, highways, and city hubs that laid between them and the thieves' original position, which left two. The routes to reach those labs would take too much time: time the culprits couldn't afford. One was placed too closely to a police station, which would decrease response time by up to fifteen minutes.

All that had been left was Nanyo University's Biochemistry and Human Genetics Building.

After writing a quick note on his blog, vague and moderately coded, but still specific enough that someone with a bit of effort could figure out where he went, lest something happened to him tonight, he called up the campus police.

Three rerouted calls later, the university had been warned. Getting on campus itself hadn't been difficult.

But now that he was at the Genetics Building, locked down and surrounded by campus police, he wasn't sure what to do. The thieves, whoever they were, were professional. Would they hesitate before a thin line of soft campus officers, or would they call the whole job off with the threat of a quick police response? Or, would they simply force their way through?

And most importantly, where should Shinichi best position himself to catch them in the act?

A minute passed, his mind running with too many ideas, before the line of police broke temporarily, responding to some commotion on the other side of the building.

Recognizing a chance for what it was, Shinichi draw the hood of his sweater lower over his face and sprinted for one of the building's door. It was protected by a old fashioned keypad.

What luck.

Shinichi took a steadying breath and tentatively dragged his fingers over the keys. When he closed his eyes, memories came to him, and he moved his fingers along with the muscle memory that came rushing in.

6.7.2.4.9.

There was the soft, dull click of door unlocking. Shinichi slipped in, as quick as a viper, as voices started coming back, sharp and urgent. The police line was reforming.

He found himself in a concrete stairwell, another door leading into the beige halls of the Genetics building. It was a typical lecture hall, as far as he could tell, long hallways lined with identical wooden doors marked by number and nameplates. Checking the map showed that the building was level and levels of lab rooms and the occasional lecture hall, topped by offices and administration.

Not the kind of place one usually expected to be hit by a militant group of thieves. What was the MO? Not quick cash, that was for sure.

"Good evening!" A voice called to his left, with an unforgettable lilt. Shinichi turned to find a man in all white sauntering up to his side, with a broad smile of shiny ivory teeth.

Shinichi stared. "Kaitou KID! What are you doing here?" Of all places for KID to show up, this wasn't one Shinichi would have ever predicted. The first ridiculous conclusion that came to mind was that KID was part of the lab thieves.

Yeah, right.

There was nothing glamorous about robbing a university: and something told Shinichi that the Dean of Chemistry wasn't hoarding the Crown Jewels in his office.

Recognizing his incredulous look, KID shrugged. "Heard somebody else was robbing the place, figured I'd drop by and research their techniques and maybe seize some spoils for myself." Oh, man. Kaitou KID really _did_ read his blog. Or maybe he was a university student. Maybe a university student that read his blog. "What are you doing here, stringer?"

Shinichi paused. He had only encountered the internationally infamous thief a couple of times before. The first meeting could only be called that generously, when Shinichi was covering a story by popular demand of his readers. KID had announced that he was going to steal away a local landmark, sparking a ruckus throughout Tokyo. Shinichi had successfully deduced that KID's intentions weren't quite hat everyone assumed right from the start, and ran _interference,_ but in the end, he and KID had only caught glimpses of each other.

The next time, Shinichi had hunted the thief down for an interview, trying to catch a scoop on the enigmatic man's identity and motive.

The interview, if it could even be called that, hadn't gone quite as he expected, aka really out of hand _aka batshit insane,_ but they had maintained an simple acquaintanceship since. He had discovered many other things about KID: namely, that the thief was an excellent conversationalist, when he wasn't being an absolute nuisance, and that talking with him was a lot easier than it should have been.

"Getting a story, duh. Somebody needs to figure who these guys are and what they want." It was easy to say that kind of thing to KID. The thief's cocky confidence had a tendency to make Shinichi's own bold certainty, the burning fire that kept him going, the sure knowledge that _he_ was the only one for the job, rear its head and resent itself proudly. And KID could hardly judge him for his lack of faith in the more official avenues.

KID laughed. "Can't think of anyone better...but, ah, how did you even get in here?"

"Are you, of all people, seriously asking me that question?" Shinichi muttered incredulously. "I've got a freelance press pass, you know."

"Right. I should get myself one of those."

Shinichi doubted KID didn't already have tens of them. But there were more important things to discuss. "KID, what are you really here for?"

"Maybe I want to help."

Not comforting. Shinichi himself had written articles on what Kaitou KID seemed to consider _helping._ "Help stop the culprits, or abet them?"

"Haven't decided yet. Feel free to _convince_ me, stringer." That wasn't an answer, but Shinichi didn't have a chance to push the issue. There was suddenly a great deal more noise filtering in from outside, and he and KID exchanged quick looks. Coming to a mutual agreement immediately, they made their way towards the source, carefully darting around corners and between doorways. Soon, they found themselves on a landing, peering down into a more open room that broke into separate halls. A group of men, dressed in dark body armor and armed to the teeth were in the process of splitting up into pairs. In less than a second, Shinichi had his camera out, snapping a quick picture. By his side, KID let out a low whistle, almost indistinguishable from his breath, and pulled out...binoculars. "Well, look who we have here."

Shinichi ignored him, focusing on the picture as the military-grade strike team dispersed below them. Their uniforms didn't seem to have any identifying characteristics, except for what looked like a red smudge on one of their left shoulders. He zoomed in on the scrap of red, and as the picture refocused, it revealed a badge, a lean, feline figure on deep scarlet. He stared at the mark for a moment. It was familiar, somehow, and he struggled to realign the image to a distant recollection.

Red Cat. Red Cats. Something was missing—"The Red Siamese Cats?"

KID glanced Shinichi's way briefly, quickly catching on. In the shadow of his hat, he made a face. "That's such a mouthful." It certainly wasn't very catchy. But Shinichi supposed these particular bioterrorists had given up on good publicity ages ago. "Who are they?" KID asked, and Shinichi looked at him, surprised.

Because, seriously? An ageless master thief deeply embroiled in the criminal underworld and a renowned super villain _didn't_ know about the Red Siamese Cats?

Typical KID. Too busy boosting his ego, and being all around _mad_ , to pay attention to the _important_ happenings of the world.

"An eco terrorist group from ages ago." Shinichi explained, moderately annoyed and recalling what he knew of them. He'd been just a kid when the Cats had been last notably active. "Their leader is supposed to still be in jail."

"Guess they found a new one."

He took a better look at the group, using the zoom on his new camcorder. One of the armored men was definitely taking point, but was probably just a field team leader rather than the actual brains behind whatever this operation was attempting to achieve. "What could they possibly want from here, though?"

"Who cares?" KID grumbled, the binoculars disappearing from his hands. "The Irregulars are already here. They'll take care of it."

Shinichi froze. The Irregulars were here already? "Are all of them here?"

KID shrugged, turning away from the troop of terrorists below to examine the halls for other points of entry and exit. "I have no idea. I just saw the blue young lady." Tsuyu. That was bad. Something about his expression must have given his concern away, because KID was suddenly focused on him, expression tight. "Why, is she in trouble? Do these guys have dangerous powers or something?"

Shinichi shook his head, taking KID's concern in stride. "No, they won't have metahumans with them." Or at least, it would be completely irrational if they did.  
KID was obviously suspicious about his answer. "What makes you say that?"

"The Red Siamese Cats are a bio terrorist organization that started as a metahuman hate group. They blame metahuman activity for the decline of climate stability and increase of environmental disasters." It was not an entirely unpopular opinion, just one that most supporters didn't like to speak aloud.

Nor was it entirely unfounded.

"Oh, great. Angry purists with guns and explosives." KID muttered sarcastically. "The only thing that could make this better is if they were racist. Oh boy, are they racists? I hope they're racists." Shinichi glared at him, as if that could make the wacky thief take this seriously. KID put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Ok, ok, if they aren't metahumans, what's the problem? The Irregulars should be able to handle this easily."

"No. That's the problem. These guys are specially equipped to take down metahumans, with a vengeance. The Irregulars are in serious trouble." Shinichi had seen what some antimeta technology was capable of, and it wasn't pretty. And that was just the stuff he police and government used to control rogues and villains. Who knew what the Cats were packing, and how willing they'd be to use it on a hero still so wet behind the ears. "Especially Tsuyu: she's inexperienced, and _terrible_ at hand to hand combat." It was obvious from the way Tsuyu moved that she wasn't well accustomed to the battlefield. Maybe later in her career, with the proper teaching and instruction, she could have the same fluid, trained movements of the other Irregulars, but right now she'd be mincemeat to professionals like the Cats.

Heart beating fast, Shinichi started to pull himself to his feet, half a plan forming in his head already. KID caught his arm and dragged him back down before he could get far.

"Whoa there, where do you think you're going?" KID hissed, and Shinichi glared at the white-gloved hand gripping his forearm.

"I have to warn her!" He snapped right back, trying to jerk free. He _hated_ being manhandled. But KID held fast.

"You'll just get in the way, stringer. _I'll_ go warn her. You—"

Shinichi felt a familiar rush of outrage. "I'm _not_ just sitting here—"

KID's lips thinned into a severe line. "Then figure out what these guys are after. And stay out of sight."

The anger faded as quickly as it came. Shinichi considered the proposition. "We should switch then, because I'm not half as sneaky as you, and will Tsuyu even _listen_ to you?" As far as Shinichi could tell, all the Irregulars hated KID with a passion. He, at least, was a familiar and trustworthy, if troublesome, presence to them.

"She will." KID said with a grave certainty that stopped Shinichi cold. The sudden seriousness of the thief's manner was unnerving, but he could respect this cold assurance more than the thief's usual antics. It made KID seem almost reliable.

But Shinichi knew better. KID wasn't exactly much of a fighter himself. "Be careful."

The cold facade shattered as KID grinned, broad and full of shining white teeth. "No need."

Shinichi huffed, but allowed the break in tension. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

"Come on, you saying you wouldn't love to write an article on my death? I'd bet you could put together one hell of an obituary."

"I can see it now. Idiot Thief Antagonizes Armed Terrorist into Shooting Him Dead. Hurry up and get in there."

"Heh, see you later, stringer."

* * *

Aoko could feel water flowing through the lab, moving through the pipes and winding in the walls and floor. She used the distant, tickling pull of it to ground herself. There was something calming about the flow of water, always present in the back of her mind.

Didn't stop her rapid-fire heartbeat, though. She was glad that the armored man she was creeping behind couldn't hear it, and doubly glad Hakuba hadn't arrived yet. Hakuba's super hearing powers were kinda freaky sometimes.

The thief was moving smoothly down the hall, on the lookout for something, but Aoko didn't have the first clue as to what. Hakuba might have been able to make some guesses, but her comm helpfully told her he was still three kilometers away.

She was on her own, just like she wanted. Except, of course, for the sharp voice in her ear. "I'm only minutes away, Tsuyu. _Do not_ make a move before I get there, understood?"

Aoko bit the inside of her lip. She could hold back and wait for Hakuba, or she could strike now, capture one of the intruders, maybe get some information out of him, or at least steal his radio or something.

And there were still seven or eight other intruders spread throughout the building, doing who knows what. Could she really afford to waste time waiting?

No.

Aoko took a deep breath, in through, the nose, and then released it as she called the water waiting in her pack out. Two gallons would be enough for an ambush.

"I don't that was a good idea." Aoko froze, her blood like ice in her veins, but as a voice whispered from behind her, smooth and too familiar, the chill was lost in a rush of fury. The intruder disappeared down the hall. "It's not a good idea to take on an opponent head on when you don't even know what they're capable of."

_KID._

She swung around, a tendril of water whipping out like a viper. KID sidestepped out of the strike smoothly, that same infuriating smirk on his lips.

Aoko wanted to smack it right off.

"You're apart of this _too_?" She snarled, snapping the water back and around in an instant. Kid ducked, allowing the water to pass over the top of his hat by a hair's width.

"No. The opposite, actually." He said, in that velvety, amused voice she was coming to despise. Suddenly, though, he was close. _Really close._ "These guys are bad news, miss. You have to be careful."

Aoko scrambled back, her water whip striking at the thief's feet to keep him from following. "Right. That's why they're robbing a _university._ " Aoko didn't know what this place had that KID wanted, but she sure as hell wasn't going to be fooled by his tricks. "I don't care what you're doing here." Aoko took a deep breath, calling out to the water all around her, and felt the answering tug of the water in the walls, building pressure. "I'm taking you in!" All at once, the water burst out, coming through the sprinklers above their heads and the water fountain down the hall, pouring in from all sides. KID's patronizing smile faltered as he tried to dodge out of the way of the torrential spray.

His hands were up, suddenly, like he was surrendering, but still he danced in between the streams of water she had shooting from all over the hall. "I really shouldn't be your priority here, miss." Yeah, right. Aoko wasn't going to buy that _bull_. In fact, she wasn't going to listen to a _word_ this trickster said. She tried to catch him off guard, bringing the water up behind him, but just as she had it crashing down over him, he was rolling out of the way. "These guys are specialists in taking down metas."

" _Hold still, you bastard._ " Aoko growled, getting frustrated. Why couldn't she hit him? Water was gushing in from all around them, gathering into long, shimmering tendrils that had all the speed and power of pressurized hoses, but KID was as agile as he was quick, and his movement patterns were practically nonsensical. One moment he'd be back flipping backwards, then he'd catch himself on one hand, twist like a snake, and somersault underneath her next strike.

What was this guy, a professional gymnast?

"I see this isn't working." KID said, not even out of breath, as he flipped gracefully through the air. The white cape flapping behind him didn't seem to hamper his movements at all. "For either of us."

" _You think?_ " Aoko wanted to scream. The bastard _was right there_ , and she couldn't get a hit on him at all. Already, she could feel a ache building behind her eyes, the concentration of controlling so many streams of water so precisely taking its toll.

_This wasn't working._

"So how about we just take a breath and talk this out, okay?" KID gave her a little friendly grin, and Aoko took a sharp breath, something she didn't understand twisting in her gut. She stilled the water throughout the room, forcing herself to take another breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. KID eased, settling back into his relaxed stance with a widening mi. "Great. I'm on your side this time, miss."

_Slowly. Patiently._ Hakuba was always telling her to slow down _._ Aoko forced her shoulders to relax, and tried to find her voice. "Okay." The word came out soft and ragged, breaking in the middle. She swallowed, and tried again, stronger this time. "Okay."

KID looked pleased.

Aoko hit him with a water jet so strong it blasted him down the hall, right into the wall. He hit it with a solid _thunk_ , the wall shuddering with the force of the impact. "Like _hell_ you can fool me, asshole!" She yelled as he crumpled to the ground, limp.

" _Tsuyu? Tsuyu!"_ A sharp voice was crackling through her comm. Heart beating impossibly fast in her chest and something giddy bursting up her throat, she answered swiftly.

"I got him, Hawk!"

" _What? Got who—I told you to wait for me."_

"Kaitou KID!" She declared, triumphantly, something like a laugh bubbling out as she watched KID struggling to get back on his feet, only to collapse back to the flooded floor. One of his arms wrapped around his torso, shaking.

His hat was knocked slightly askew, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of his eyes. His face was twisted in pain, but his gaze was still focused and bright and _furious._ But it was a strange flavor of fury, not what she was expecting.

If she didn't know better, Aoko would think KID looked _betrayed._

" _KID? What—why—No. Tsuyu, tell me everything, right now!"_ Hakuba's voice refocused her, and as KID tried to get back to his feet, one hand bracing the wall, Aoko called the water back to her command.

"KID's here. He tried to trick me with some stupid warning." A new jet formed, crashing into KID with just enough force to elicit a breathless shout and pin him to the wall.

" _A warning?_ " Hawk's voice was weirdly desperate. Like he was worried by that, or something.

"He said that the thieves are, uh, antimeta specialists. Or something like that." Aoko watched KID struggle against the water, annoyed by how stubbornly his hat and monocle stayed on. "But don't worry, I didn't fall for it. I got him good too. He's not going anywhere."

" _Antimetas? Shit, Aoko!"_ Aoko blinked. Hakuba never approved of using their real names while in the field, even over their private comms. He sounded too panicked to care, though. _"You've got to get out of there now!"_ Aoko huffed a breath. She didn't know what Hakuba was freaking out about. Whatever theses anitmeta specialists were, they couldn't be that bad, even _if_ they were actually here. Which they definitely weren't.

But KID wasn't giving up. In fact, he was fighting against the water pressure harder, one hand forcing itself up in the face of the water jet. Huh, almost looked like he was trying to point at something. " _I'm just outside—"_

Something struck Aoko, hard, and suddenly her whole body was _burning_. She screamed, pain spiking through her every nerve, and her concentration broke entirely, all the water in the room raining down as she collapsed to the floor. The whole world blurred, but she could just barely make out KID hitting the ground next, shuddering down like a broken doll.

Her whole body was quivering, limbs spasming out of her control. Had she—had she been electrocuted?

"First rule of battle, bitch. Always watch your back." A gruff voice said as she heard heavy footsteps _ap_ proaching. A pair of military boots stopped in front of her. "Holy shit, is that Kaitou KID _?_ "

Aoko forced herself back up, finding herself facing the intruder from before. He was burly and tall, his face hidden behind gasmask and helmet, and in his hands he gripped a metallic _bo._ "The boss is gonna love that." He muttered as he turned, watching her sway unsteadily on her feet. Even without seeing his eyes, she knew he was eying her disdainfully. "You're out of your league, freak."

The intruder spun the staff in his hands, movements smooth and practiced with expert precision. Aoko watched carefully, waiting for him to lurch forward and strike, focusing on the water beneath their feet, ready to slip him up.

Instead, he slammed the staff down on the floor.

Less than a second later, it crackled with electricity, and she felt her whole body convulse, as the electricity coursed through her.

"Tsuyu!" Somewhere, Hakuba was yelling. In her comm? No, sounded—

Arms caught her as her legs gave out beneath her, and the hall filled with smoke. "Tsuyu, are you alright?" Hawk's mask was before her eyes; hazy from both her spotty vision and the cover Hakuba must have created to distract the intruder.

"Hold on," She said, uncertainly, as she felt herself being dragged away, "KID...he's gonna get away…"

"He already did. Disappeared just as I dropped the smoke pellet."

Goddamn it. Her eyes were burning again. Must be the stupid smoke.

Suddenly, Hakuba jolted to a stop. Aoko could already hear the electricity crackling.

She should have just stayed with Kaito.

* * *

Shinichi didn't know why the Cats had broken into this particular office.

But he was going to find out.

It was a standard office, for a professor. On one side of the room, there was an overflowing bookcase. The rest of the walls were lined with framed photos from over the professor's career, in particular a graduation photo and numerous shots of different lab teams from over the years. Most were of the same people, all middle-aged and Japanese, with different sets of smooth faced interns. He even recognized most of the photo locations, except for the ones that had been obviously taken in the lab, with starch white walls and counters lined in glassware and sand baths.

One stuck out. It was a picture of a more diverse group, all still wearing bold white lab coats, standing together before a Greco-Roman style lecture hall, the United Kingdom's flag drifting lazily in the wind behind them.

The group varied in skin tone and age more than any of the others shown, from elderly white guys to the Professor, to a tall Indian woman, to a teenage girl with strawberry blond hair. The girl couldn't have been older than sixteen, but she held herself with the confidence and poise of an experienced scientist. Maybe it was the severity of her regal face: she wasn't exactly smiling at the camera.

Curious, he carefully lifted the picture off the wall. The girl couldn't have been a daughter of one of the scientists. Everyone in the picture stood like equals.  
Shinichi tugged the photo free from its frame, finding that it's back was marked in scrawl.

_August 23_. Three years ago. _Oxford Summer Research Team._

A series of English names. At the very end of the list, the writing read: _and the prodigy, Miyano Shiho_.

Nothing else had been written. Shinichi took a picture of the photo, front and back, and then set the frame back in its place on the wall.

He moved on, further into the office, carefully snapping photos of anything that seemed out of place. Eventually he made it to the desk, where stacks of papers had been overturned and scattered across the wood surface. Someone had impatiently tried to reorder them, but the disturbance was still clear.

Some of the books on the shelf had been knocked over.

A distraction. Whatever the thief had been looking for, he hadn't found it in either of those places.

Shinichi took another glance around the room, this time focusing on what wasn't immediately in sight, and discovered a small filing cabinet was tucked under the desk, dark grey and rusting on the edges.

He traced his fingers over the handle of each drawer, slowly probing each. The first was worn white, the silver paint chipped away by continuous and frequent use. When he tugged it open, he found the bottom and the rails were dented from being left open and crashed into repeatedly. The drawer was marked by a single, continuous presence: stressed, weary, but not unpleasantly so. A tired mind that still had a fondness for its work.

Shinichi slid the drawer shut and moved on to the next. This one had seen less use, and his skin prickled as he gingerly dragged his fingers along the cool metal.

He took a deep breath, and gripped the handle more surely, imagining his fingers being covered in gloves, imagining jerking the drawer open, searching.

The memory hit him hard, it was so fresh. His hands were clothed in black, and his body felt heavy, armor weighing him down. The drawer didn't open smoothly, creaking with disuse, and he jerked it more forcefully.

It was only partially filled with files, folders all a professional manila, labeled with names and titles in printed black kanji. In his mind, though, he only focused on one, zeroing in on his target.

A name, a title. He needed something precise.

The memory sharpened, focusing in on a single label.

_Miyano: Notes on Probable Chemical Pathways of Metahuman Abilities._ In an instant, Shinichi let the memory slip away, only to find that the target was missing: the file was nowhere to be seen.

Damn. Better than nothing though.

Abandoning the thief's tracks, Shinichi slid into the computer chair and booted up the old desktop, only to be immediately blocked by a login screen.

"Great, just _great._ " He muttered to himself.

"Hit a dead-end?" A voice asked.

Shinichi jolted, half scrambling out of the chair before he could stop himself. And that embarrassing squawk? Absolutely did not come from him. "KID!"

The phantom thief blinked innocently, ignoring Shinichi's moderate conniption completely. He looked less put together than when Shinichi last saw him, particularly because he was _dripping wet_. KID even seemed to be holding himself tentatively, like he was injured. Obviously, the conversation with Tsuyu hadn't gone so well.

Ignoring Shinichi's questioning look, KID pointed at the computer. "What are you doing?"

Shinichi took a steadying breath, in through his nose, and refocused. "Looking into something the professor was working on. I think it is what the Cats were after." KID's sudden appearance was convenient. "Can you get me into this computer?"

"Easily." KID snapped his fingers, and immediately the infuriating login screen disappeared, revealing the typical loading screen as the system started up.

Shinichi stared, not quite believing it. KID hadn't even touched the computer. "How did you—No, it doesn't matter."

The background and icons appeared on screen. Shinichi hurried to access the professor's files, finding a mess of documents, slideshows, and barely organized subfolders.  
Clicking his tongue, he went straight for the search bar, typing in Miyano.

Various documents popped up, including one named _Miyano Dissertation: Metahuman Abilities and the Probable Causes._ There were several others, hundreds of pages long theses going by the sheer size of each document: _Metahuman Abilities and the Theoretical Limits..., Mutated Growth Hormone and DNA Degeneration Behin..., Effects of Gene Therapy on Me..._

_Transcription Factors and Gene Promot..., Beta-Metas—_

He stared at all the different files, uncertain how to go on. He didn't know which was the right one. Or if there even was a right one.

KID whistled in his ear. Shinichi had no idea when he had gotten that close. He ignored the sound, and how tense his shoulders had gotten, and instead pulled a flash drive off his keys and inserted it into the computer's port.

He'd just download them all and look through them later.

"Nice work, stringer." KID said, and Shinichi froze when a white-gloved hand settled on his shoulder. Carefully, he turned to look at KID, who was grinning at him.

  
He shouldn't have shown this to KID. He should've been smarter than that, he realized as KID snapped his fingers and a burst of pink smoke hit Shinichi right in the face.

  
Those thoughts came too late. The world faded into black with nothing more than short laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	5. Love Like Fools

When Shinichi woke up, he was in the office alone, his head rested on his arms on the Professor's desk. The lights were out, and the flash drive was gone. When he scrambled back to the computer, relieved to find the system still logged in, and retyped his search, his heart sunk. There were no files containing the name Miyano, or any of the other keywords he could remember.

KID had been thorough. All evidence had been wiped away like it never existed. Damn it. He'd make that damn thief pay for that.

Even the memory card he'd nicked back from the police was gone. What KID could possibly want with it was anyone's guess, along with just about  _everything_  else. Why would the Siamese Cats want research on metahuman abilities? And why would KID want that same information? And did either of their motives relate back to the crows and the missing kids?

These questions were just a few of the countless he asked himself as he sprinted back through the building, to where he could hear some kind of conflict unfolding.

He found himself led to one of the foyers, where Hawk was locked in a heated battle with three heavily armed Cats.

And Hawk was losing.

Shinichi could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he threw himself back around the corner before anyone saw him. Cautiously, he pulled out his camcorder and peered around, dissecting the situation in seconds.

Hawk was moving more clumsily than usual, his typical grace hampered by a slippery floor and minor injuries: bruising to the lower back, left leg, and right forearm. By the smell of burnt rubber and the electricity crackling from the bo staves wielded by two of the Cats, Shinichi felt it was fair to add electricity burns to that list.

Tsuyu was in worse shape, barely managing to stay on her feet and out of the way as Hawk and the Cats danced around the room. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her brow was furrowed in concentration as she forced thin water tendrils to whip at the third Cat, effectively making her just enough of a nuisance to keep Hawk from being overwhelmed by the numbers.

On the ground were two discarded automatic rifles, their triggers and safeties frozen over with ice; Shinichi hypothesized that was a collaboration between Tsuyu's hydrokinesis and Hawk's liquid nitrogen pellets.

There was no sign of KID, but that didn't mean he wasn't still hanging around somewhere. This was Kaitou KID after all.

The third Cat was up to something, dodging one of Tsuyu's swipes and pulling some kind of canister from his belt. Whatever it was, it gave Shinichi a bad feeling, and his mind immediately turned to explosives.

"Hawk, watch out! The tall one is about to use something." Shinichi said, not bothering to raise his voice: Hawk would hear him, even if he whispered. And the last thing he needed was to attract the Cats' attention.

In response, Hawk rolled across the floor between his two opponents, just managing to slide between their crackling staves, and came back on his feet to charge the third Cat.

Instantaneously, the Cat switched targets from Tsuyu to Hawk, tossing the canister right into Hawks face. It broke open with a hiss, a large net bursting forth. Hawk attempted to dodge, but slid on the wet floor, skidding right into the net.

"Hawk!" Tsuyu yelled as the other vigilante went down; he was completely entangled and hit the floor hard. She made an abortive move towards him, retreating right back as all three Cats zeroed in on her, advancing with staves ready.

"Well, shit." Shinichi muttered, thoughts racing as he tried to find something to help. He didn't have much by way of weaponry, but his tripod could work as a makeshift weapon of blunt force trauma. Not that he stood much of a chance against trained professionals with something like that.

He did have his soccer ball, though. He could at least distract the three with a well placed ricochet ball, long enough for Hawk to get free.

"Forget them!" The tall one snarled, just as Shinichi was reaching into his bag. "We've got the objective. Let's get out of here before any more of them show up!"

Reluctantly, the other two Cats backed off, their staves still sparking threateningly. Shinichi watched them carefully as they moved towards the other end of the the room, making their way to the exits at the end of the hall. Hawk was still struggling with the net, sawing at the cables with a throwing knife, and Tsuyu was wavering on her feet, just moments from collapse.

The door slammed shut behind the Cats, and they were gone. Shinichi forced down the instinct to pursue, and instead stepped out into the room, camcorder in hand.

Hawk zeroed in on him immediately, finally throwing off the net with a frustrated snarl and storming over. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Getting footage of the break-in." Shinichi raised a brow at Hawk, struggling not to smile. Hawk was soaked and limping, looking more like a particularly clumsy duck than his namesake. "Figure the police are going to need it. Seems the Cats somehow knocked out the building's security cams."

"Are you  _crazy?_  Who figures out that there's going to be a crime somewhere,  _and then goes there?"_

"Reporters." Obviously.

Hawk made a strangled sound and threw his hands up in the air.

* * *

 

The mission had been a complete,  _horrific_ failure. The culprits had been right in front of him, and not only did they get away, but they handed him his arse on the way out.

Saguru was understandably furious.

"Are you mad at me?" Aoko asked, sitting in the co-pilot's chair of the jet. He didn't look at her.

"I'm not mad."  _Just disappointed,_  he almost said, but he bit his tongue on it. He was pissed at Aoko, honestly, and didn't feel like joking around.

Silence fell between them, stilted and awkward. Aoko was fidgeting in the corner of his vision, but Saguru just stared stonily forward, pretending to busy himself with the jet's controls.

If Aoko noticed that the autopilot button was lit, she didn't mention it. He hoped she got the message to shut her mouth before he snapped.

But instead of taking the hint, she twisted her hands around and muttered, "You  _are_ mad."

God, they were  _really_  doing this. Saguru could feel his already peaked frustration boiling over. "Aoko-kun, you disobeyed my direct order and went ahead like a loose cannon."

Aoko winced and bit her lip. "I thought…"

"You thought what, Aoko-kun?" He couldn't help but cut her off, voice hard and mean. "That I give orders for the fun of it?"

His tone had her tensing, her own infamous temper flaring. As if she had any right to be mad, when she had thoughtless ignored the mission plan and endangered herself and any civilians in the vicinity. "That I could handle it!"

Oh, that was just  _rich._  Really. "That's irrelevant to ignoring orders."

"What was I supposed to do? Just sit back and let them steal whatever they were after?" Not that she'd been very successful at stopping them even when she acted proactively.

"I'm sure Kudo-sensei will go over with you in-depth all the better options available to you during debrief. But if you'd like a preview, I could give you a list of other strategies you could have employed ordered from most efficient to least."

"That's not fair! It's not like I knew they could beat me! I thought they were just normal criminals!"

"That's something you should have accounted before you charged in like a loose cannon!"

Aoko opened her mouth, furious and indignant. Then she snapped it shut and slumped in her seat, consternated and unhappy. For a moment, there was quiet as they both stewed in their tempers. Then, Aoko spoke again, sulkily. "Who were those jerks anyway?"

"The Red Siamese Cats. Antimeta specialists."

"KID said something like that too."

KID. Right. Another unexpected factor in the day's disaster. What was his purpose for following the Cats? What was he after? Saguru highly doubted that KID had been there to look out for Aoko, considering he hadn't attempted to help them during their losing battle. "Did KID say what he was doing there?" Maybe he'd let something else slip to Aoko. The thief often underestimated her perception skills.

"Not really." Aoko huffed, and Saguru felt his fingers tighten around the controls. Useless. "But Kudo-kun was there too."

"Don't remind me." Yet another  _infuriating_ factor; Shinichi. Always this time, Saguru was almost,  _almost_ grateful for the meddling. If he knew Shinichi, and he sure as hell  _did_ , then Shinichi probably had figured something out about the Cats, or the very least, what they were after. Considering Saguru's own disastrous performance, he could hardly complain about Shinichi putting himself in danger or getting in the way, especially if Shinichi had managed to be more useful than all the Irregulars combined in this case.

They returned to the headquarters with very little other conversation, both mulling over their own mistakes during the chaos. Saguru had to admit to himself, at least, that a portion of his anger was borne from worry. When he'd arrived to discover Aoko already in battle, and losing at that, he'd been terrified that she would be hurt. Watching her collapse from that electric shock…

He hadn't kept his cool as well as he should have. He'd let-no, he still  _was_  letting his emotions get the best of him. And considering who was in the building with him, which could very well have been a fatal mistake. He would have to be better next time: think more clearly and compartmentalize properly.

The Baron and the rest of the Irregulars met them in the hangar. Saguru's teammates were in varying states of worry and unease, but despite the uncomfortable atmosphere of the room, it was impossible to judge the Baron's mood behind that grinning white mask.

"Hawk, report." The Baron's voice told him nothing, clipped and firm as ever.

Saguru heard Aoko shift awkwardly behind him, obviously worried about what he was about to say. Not that it made a difference what he reported, as the Baron probably already knew exactly how the mission had gone down, or would soon even if Saguru said nothing.

Forcing down his sympathy for Aoko, Saguru focused on giving a concise summary of the night. "We identified the thieves as the former bio-terrorist group the Red Siamese Cats. Tsuyu confronted them and Kaitou KID alone. They had antimeta technology, and we were unable to prevent them from escaping. Both of us have electrical burns and a few other minor injuries. Kudo Shinichi was also on site, but remained uninvolved with the conflict. Kaitou KID's purposes in being there, or how he knew of the break-in, are still unknown." The last part was blatantly a lie that the Baron would no doubt see right through. KID had been there because Aoko had led him there. It was that simple.

The Baron was silent for a few tense seconds. All eyes were shifting between the cold ivory of the mask and Aoko's uncertain face. The Baron made his decree in clipped, strict tones. "Aoko-kun, I'm taking you off all missions."

The verdict settled over them all like a heavy fog, and Saguru saw Kazuha wince from where she stood in his periphery vision. Aoko balked, mouth open, and then bristled. "What?" She snapped disrespectfully. Saguru felt any sympathy he had for her die with the rush of indignation that hit him as she continued to snarl at their mentor. "You're taking me off-duty?"

The others were all shifting uncomfortably around them, not daring to say a word. The Baron, in contrast to Saguru's rising horror and frustration, barely seemed to care for Aoko's lack of due etiquette. "Yes." He said simply. "This disaster has made it clear that you still need more training before we can trust you to handle yourself appropriately in the field."

"Handle myself?  _Handle myself?_  I took down the Kaitou KID!"

"And what do you have to show for it?" The Baron's voice was soft but cutting. Saguru recognized the tone as same one that Yuusaku so often used with Shinichi. There was a certain lilt to it that made people feel small and foolish: the kind of voice that hit hardest with teenagers, with their developing egos and fragile self-esteems. "Was KID captured? Incapacitated? Did that help the mission? Prioritizing targets and objectives is essential when taking initiative in the field." Aoko winced at that. Saguru took no small amount of pleasure in how well his own critique of the situation mirrored the Baron's. "You let yourself be distracted from the mission by an unexpected party, and put both yourself and Hawk at risk of being killed. That is unacceptable."

Aoko swallowed, the sound of it booming in Saguru's ears. He tried to turn his attention away from her and let her fade into the background like the others, just the regular sensory static that filled his everyday life. Tried to ignore the rising guilt and shame that quickly swallowed up his annoyance and pride. But he could see the slight shaking of her hands, the blood vessels in her eyes dilating with retrained tears, and god, he hated himself. He was a terrible friend and leader. He should have pulled his head out of his arse and taken responsibility for the mission going awry, instead of preening in his own vindication. But it was too late to spare Aoko's feelings, and the crack of Aoko's jaw creaking open to mutter "yes sir," seemed to echo in the too quiet too loud room. Saguru knew that every member of his team was silently pleading for dismissal.

They weren't sent home for two more hours: quiet, chastised, and uncomforted.

* * *

 

When Aoko had been a little girl, her best friend, Kaito, lost his father in a meta-attack.

The disaster had been a violent conflict between the Overseers and Kaitou KID. One of KID's usual, careless tricks resulted in the destruction and collapse of tens of building in downtown Tokyo. Forty injured. Four dead. An accident, some people said.

Numerous accounts of _manslaughter_ , Aoko called it. And she was validated in that, because KID disappeared for  _years_  afterwards, no doubt terrified of being confronted with his crimes and having to face justice for all the lives he'd taken.

And Kaito, poor, miserable, heartbroken Kaito, escaped the hounding media, victim memorials, and haunting memories of his father by moving to California with his mother. And Aoko, young and still reeling with grief she didn't quite understand, refused to let him go. It didn't matter if there was eight thousand kilometers and sixteen hours between them: there was telephones and email and eventually video calls and chats. And they were separated, but okay. They were okay, because there was no way the smiles Kaito gave her through her LED laptop screen were fake. And if Kaito seemed to hate the world a little, that was also okay, because he would grow out of it. He'd understand, someday, that the world was good and innocent and only one heartless criminal was at fault for taking his father away, and that criminal was gone.

Except,  _someday_  seemed further away than ever, because then Kaitou KID came back, to rob the world of more of its treasures.

And then, Kaito came back to Japan, and Aoko finally had a chance to make  _someday_  come just a little sooner. She could finally show him how much the police were working to improve the world, how much the Overseers sacrificed to protect people from disasters and monsters and bad guys with too much evil in their hearts.

So she took him with her to heist locations and events and parties, made him feel involved in the defense of the law and righteous. And it was helping: Kaito was getting better. He'd been smiling more cheerfully for months now, and his moments of dark anger came more rarely. So when her mom had died alone while she was with Kaito her father at a heist, she had refused to let her own grief ruin their progress. She liked it when Kaito smiled at her, so she was going to make him smile. The brilliance of his beautiful smile made her want to show him all the wonderful things in the world.

Someday, their future together would be just a brilliant.

But today  _sucked._  It wasn't fair, what Hakuba and Kudo-sensei had said. They just didn't understand. What was she  _supposed to do?_  Let criminals like KID and the Cats go? The world would never be a better place with scumbags like them walking the streets and hurting people. Every moment wasted when bad guys were in front of her could mean another innocent kid losing a parent.

Aoko struggled against the burning of her eyes, rubbing her face with the soft sleeve of her sweater, and tried to focus on the stir-fry sizzling in the pan. After such a terrible night, she was glad to be home, but she struggled to find the energy to make a proper dinner for herself and eventually, if he came home, her dad.

What would her dad think if he came home to find her crying into a skillet? Pathetic.

And where did KID get off, pretending to care? He didn't care about anyone or anything! All he did was endanger people! Did he really think she was so  _stupid_  that she'd let him trick her? Except he had in the end, didn't he? He'd acted as a distraction to give the Cat a chance to catch her off-guard, instead of the other way around.

Because of him, she'd been relegated back to being a stupid stand-by trainee. He just  _had_  to steal away everything good from her, didn't he? He couldn't even let her have this one thing!

Why couldn't he just go away and disappear from her life?

And what was that stupid noise?

Aoko looked behind her to look at the kitchen island, but her vision was too blurry with tears to make out much more than the faint glow of her phone's alight screen. She couldn't even read the name of the caller ID, but somehow she just knew exactly who it was.

She took the call.

" _Ahoko!"_ Kaito's voice immediately huffed over the line. Right, she had left him at the university. Shit, she was such an idiot.  _"I don't like being ditched you know!"_ Thankfully, Kaito didn't sound too genuinely bothered. There was a certain layer of amused teasing layering his words. Aoko was grateful, because she didn't think she could handle Kaito being angry with her too.  _"I've been calling you for hours!"_

"Sorry, Kaito." Her voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat to cover if and tried not to sniffle. "Everything just became such a mess."

" _Did you miss the seminar after all?"_

"Yeah. My boss and Hakuba-kun are both really mad. I got yelled at in front of everybody." The tears came again, overflowing from her eyes before she could stop them. She hoped Kaito couldn't tell.

" _Aoko…_ "

"But let's forget about that!" She didn't want to talk about it anymore. No, she didn't want to think about it. She wanted a distraction. "Let's—let's talk about how I can make this up to you." The words just came out. She wasn't thinking straight-was barely thinking at all.

" _Hah?"_

"There's this new amusement park, over in Beika...I was wondering, if well, maybe, you'd want to go? With me?" It had been a stupid thing she'd been considering-daydreaming about, really-for weeks now, since well before the start of break.

" _An amusement park? What is this, a kiddie field trip?"_ Aoko snorted at that. They had some good memories of those.

"No, it's—it's a date."

Oh blast, she said it. She said it  _aloud._

The other side of the line went quiet. Very quiet.

Aoko felt her heart plummet. Of course, of course, after ruining everything else today, she'd have to ruin things with Kaito too. Of course after hitting the bottom she had to grab a shovel and start digging herself deeper.

Over the line, Kaito cleared his throat. Aoko tried to steel herself for the answer, eyes burning. Oh well, it's not like she wasn't already going to cry herself to sleep tonight.

" _Ohmygodyes."_ He sounded strangled.

What?

" _I mean, uh, sure. If you insist._ "

Aoko couldn't help but laugh, joy and relief blooming in her chest so big and vibrantly she almost forgot she'd ever been upset at all.

"I like you, Kaito. I've liked you all this time."

* * *

 

The next day, Aoko was walking on air.

Not, like, literally, though that would be cool. Not like Ran could. But like, figuratively. Or something.

Semantics aside, she was going on a date with Kaito.

_She was going on a date with Kaito!_

The thought made her whole body tingle, cold and warm all at once. She felt like her blood was fizzing inside her. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, but it was a pleasant ache. Even the bruises and burns she had from the day before barely seemed to hurt.

She couldn't even bring herself to feel nervous about reporting in for morning training, even if she knew Hakuba was probably still pissed at her and that she would have to face their mentor's crushing disappointment. All that mattered was that sometimes bad things happened so something good could. Sometimes fate tested people in order to reward them when they pushed through.

"You look cheerful, Aoko-chan." A friendly voice called from down the hall that led back up to the surface and the Kudo Manor. Aoko glanced behind her to see Ran slipping down the hall, already dressed for training and fashionably athletic as ever. They met each other halfway and turned towards the entrance to Headquarters together. "I'm glad. I was worried you would be down over what happened yesterday."

"Yeah," Aoko said, not really wanting to talk about it. Instead she focused on the security scanner seated above the steel sliding door that opened into the main hangar of the base. A burst of shining blue light swept over her, confirming her identity from the patterns of her retinas to her finger prints.

" _Identified: Irregular operative five, Tsuyu. Authorized. Identified: Irregular operative two, Angel. Authorized."_

As the six-inch thick and plated door slid open to admit them, Ran looked at her with worried eyes.

"I'm okay, really." Aoko insisted. "Something really good happened last night." Aoko assured, and she was grinning again just at the thought. It was a struggle to not dissolve into giddy giggles as she explained. "I finally asked Kaito out! And he said yes! We're going to Tropical Land on a date tonight!"

There was a sound of something heavy and metal hitting the floor with a  _clang!_

"You did  _what?"_  A familiar voice snarled, and holy shit, Aoko was so sick of being yelled at.

Hakuba stormed up to them with a scowl, his usual cool left behind with the wrench he had dropped on the floor. He must have been working on the jet, because his usual impeccably appearance was streaked with oil. His already frizzy hair was a complete mess, too, and Aoko couldn't bring herself to feel intimidated. Ran glanced between them as they settled into a stand-off, Hakuba looming and Aoko refusing to back down.

"I asked Kaito out! We're dating now!"

"That's the problem!" Hakuba snapped. "Are you stup—" Hakuba's voice cut off as Ran's foot stomped down on his, hard. With a wince, he took a step back and a deep breath. Under Ran's narrow-eyed warning glare, he collected himself before asking much more calmly, "we've talked about Kuroba, Aoko-kun."

This again. Aoko couldn't contain a huff of frustration. "Yeah, ten thousand times. But you're wrong about him!"

Hakuba looked at her, for a long and quiet moment. Her face flushed with how pitying he seemed. He looked like the doctors at the hospital that day, resolute and sympathetic and  _oh god_ she did not want to know what came next.

"Fine," Hakuba said, despite her mounting dread, "if you won't believe  _me,_  maybe you'll believe  _him_."

* * *

 

The police had confiscated the footage of the break-in. And his copy of the footage.

Thankfully, Shinichi did  _everything_  in triplicate. Take  _that_ , Officer Date.

He searched every library and database had access to,  _which was a lot,_  and the ones his father had access to,  _which was an absurd number,_ for articles, papers, and research done by Miyano Shiho. He found a fair share of papers on chemistry and chemical engineering, and pharmaceuticals that mentioned her in their long lists of collaborators, but any mention of metahuman abilities was almost conspicuously absent. The papers on the computer didn't seem to exist publicly, not even in the scientific community. Google searches for any information on Miyano Shiho proved just as fruitless. Frustratingly so. There wasn't even a short newspaper mentioning the novelty of a prodigy girl working at Oxford alongside prominent scientists.

He had to get those files back from KID, but in the meantime he organized a meeting with the professor from Nanyo, hoping the elderly man could shine some light on the situation and why he had papers that had obviously never been publicly announced or published saved on his computer.

It was frustrating, knowing he had had evidence in his hands  _twice_  and lost them both. To KID. And now all he was left with was dead ends and a classroom's worth of missing kids.

Somebody up there hated him.

He'd have to keep scouring the city for clues, but there was really only one way forward. He had to find KID and get back the evidence; had to find an uncatchable thief and steal back his shit.

It didn't even sound easy, it sounded impossible.

So Shinichi made a couple quick calls. Arranging the bait was easy, and his contact took the request of ASAP with great enthusiasm. Shinichi was lucky the crazy old man had more energy than a city power plant and twice as much moxie.

Within the hour, a challenge notice was on the web, and Shinichi could just imagine the hired security and the police task force scrambling to get themselves together in time. He wrote a quick blog post about it and posted the notice of his front page. Somehow, he just knew that KID would find out the news from him first.

KID would regret being such a dutiful reader of his site. That was for sure.

* * *

 

Nothing felt real.

The wind in her hair, the sensation of moving one foot in front of the other, the sound of people chattering in the distance: she felt disconnected from it all, moving on auto-pilot through the crowds. Faces passed like water, indistinct and ephemeral, and the flashing lights seemed out of hazy dream.

The only thing that she seemed conscious of was Kaito's presence at her side, leaving her skin crawling and tight. She could not remember a time she felt more uncomfortable.

Hakuba and Kudo-sensei had been reluctant to let her go, but she hadn't let them dissuade her. Or rather, all the words after the accusations, the explanations, and the painful, cold truth had just deflected off her. She barely heard them, not around the cacophony of sound in her ears and the bitter repeat of denials swarming around in her head. Eventually they let her go, with the condition of wearing an impressive total of seventeen bugs. She barely noticed those, and couldn't bring herself to care. None of that seemed to matter right then.

Kaito could tell something was wrong. Aoko hadn't been able to bring herself to smile when he arrived, face flushed and eyes bright and eager. Then he had fished, trying to understand her mood and lure her out of her reticence. Since then he had sobered, watching her warily in between quick glances to his phone.

Her eyes felt hot, burning. Her tongue seemed to be too big for her mouth. Her hands kept trembling.

"Is there something you want to ride?" Kaito asked, putting away his phone with something like regretful expression. She didn't—couldn't look at him anymore, and instead pointed.

"The Ferris wheel." Her voice sounded robotic to her own ears.

"Okay."

The line moved quickly. Aoko couldn't decide if she was grateful for that or not. Some part of her wanted to just run away, to go cry her eyes out in a bathroom somewhere until the whole world disappeared. The rest of her wanted to hurt Kaito-badly. She wanted to punch him, hard, push him into traffic. She wanted to scream and yell and shove him in a fountain and drag him under and-

She wanted to talk. She wanted to understand. She wanted to hit the pause button on her life and go back home and do something else.

Aoko clenched her hands into fists, feeling her stomach churn, as they boarded one of the carriages. Kaito settled on one side, her on the other. Facing each other now, she could no longer avoid looking at him.

It was almost funny. He didn't look any different, but the way she saw him had changed completely. Suddenly, some part of her wanted to laugh. Because it was at least a little funny, wasn't it? That her best friend was also her worst enemy, the person she'd sworn defeat. The reason she'd given up on being a normal girl and dedicated herself to revenge.

"Aoko." Kaito's voice was uncharacteristically soft, so different from his usual teasing tones, and she shuddered from how unnatural it seemed, that Kaito would address her in such a way.

But she didn't really know him at all, did she? All those times he called her name in fondness, annoyance, lacing the two syllables with humor and love all at once, weren't exactly honest.

The Kaito she'd known for so long hadn't been Kaito at all. He'd been a caricature on strings, pulled by the darker, more solemn and viciously calculating counterpart she was faced with now.

And that's the hardest part, wasn't it? Figuring out what was an act put on to distract her from the painful truth and what was genuine, what was misdirection to draw attention away from the cold and vengeful person that inhabited Kaito's skin.

"I know now." She said simply, but inside she was screaming, yelling. The words seemed almost awkward in comparison.

"Know what?" Kaito prompted, his head tilted. He looked like the perfect picture of innocence. Did he think she was dumb? Of course he did. He had to.

She was, must have been, to have been blind to this fallacy for so long.

The glare she gave him, eyes brimming with tears she couldn't keep in anymore, must have gotten the message across. Kaito stiffened, his face going slack and empty.

That was all the answer she needed.

"So it's true." The words tasted bitter in her mouth and filled the gaps in her teeth, heavy like gum. "You're Kaitou KID."

Kaito frowned at her. "Seriously, Ahoko. Not you too."

The fury that had felt so distant, so far away, suddenly rushed back into her as fire ignited in her veins. She burst out of her seat, hunching in the close quarters of the carriage, and yelled in Kaito's face. "You really are going to deny this?" The nerve of him. After everything, after so many  _years_ of lies, he was still trying to spin this absurd facade.

"Aoko-" Kaito tried, and Aoko heard the blood rushing in her ears. The carriage seemed to quiver under the weight of her fury.

"You really don't respect me at all, do you?" She snarled, and it was almost, almost satisfying when he flinched from her, like she had actually lashed out. But it wasn't. It just made her feel emptier. "You think I'm stupid! You think I'm some idiot you can lie to and use however you want!" The words left her in a harsh shriek, her voice breaking. And with them gone, no longer filling her up, she felt herself deflate. Her tears felt hot as they streaked down her cheeks.

Kaito watched her, face twisted with-something. Concern, maybe. Frustration, possibly. Not guilt. His dark eyes seemed too cold and dry in his face, and she hated him for it, for how her throat closed around a lump and how her own eyes burned hot and wet.

"I don't think that. I-" He said, voice not quite desperate as he took a breath and steadied in the shifting carriage. "I like you. I always have."

Yesterday, she would have given anything to hear those words. Now, despite the sincere way Kaito formed them, they seemed superficial.

"Why should I believe you?" Her voice sounded cold to her own ears, thick with suspicion and raspy with emotion.

"I wouldn't lie to you. Not about this."

The second wave of anger hit her like riptide. It was a tepid fury, colder than before. It felt more like hatred. "You'd lie to me about anything so long as it suited you." The list Kudo-sensei had shown her was burning white and black in her memory, every instance of Kaito using her against her father, the Irregulars, the world. And most damning, the incident of nine months ago. "You've been doing nothing but lying to me! It's what you do! You lie and deceive, as if people's trust is something for you to abuse! As if laws are okay to break so long as you don't get caught! That you can take anything you want so long as you're wearing someone else's face to do it!"

"You've been lying too! All that bullshit you've been spewing lately, about internships and seminars and conventions; all pathetic attempts at covering up  _what you really are._ " A freak. There was that barely veiled hate again, layered in the accusation in Kaito's tone.

"I do it to protect people!" She screamed, remembering Kaito and his mother standing like black statues against a setting sun before a grave, remembering how pale her mother looked against the hospital sheets. "You're hurting people! You've hurt my dad! You've hurt me! Because of you, I'm lucky to see my father a couple of times a week! Because of you-because of you, my mom died alone!"

"You want to talk about  _parents?"_ Kaito stood up then, shooting from his seat as violently a striking cobra. She flinched back from him a step, for the first time hating the height he had gained on her since they were kids.  _"What about mine?_ Did your buddies in ISHA fail to mention  _that_?"

Oh,  _how dare he!_ Aoko was  _done_  with feeling sorry over Kaito's damned father. "Don't you try to make this about your dad! You don't get to pull that shit right now!" For years he'd been playing that card, and Aoko took it because before she'd have done anything to make him happy, and after had understood the pain of losing a parent. But Kaito had been using that against her all this time, blinding her with his troubles and begging  _fix me, fix me_  with dark eyes and a broken smiles until she couldn't see anything else. "You're a criminal! A super villain! Just like he was!"

The words, when said aloud, hovered in the air between them. Kaito's eyes were smoldering, but his face was miserable. "You said you liked me." He murmured, and suddenly Aoko couldn't stand anymore. She slumped back into her seat.

"I didn't know you." It was painful to admit that. How well he had duped her into thinking she understood him wholly, when really she didn't comprehend anything about him at all. The brilliant, compassionate boy that gave her a rose when she cried was gone, if he ever existed at all.

"That's not true." Kaito said. He reached for her, calloused hand pausing in the space between them, as if waiting for her to reach back. She pulled her hands further away, clutching them to her breast.

"Is it? Do I know you?" His eyes were staring into her own, pleading. They were such a beautiful, mysterious color, but Aoko was starting to realize that beautiful and mysterious also meant dangerous. "Was anything between us real?"

"Yes. All of it." He insisted, and she wanted to believe him so badly.

"Shit, this is so fucked up. This is so, so fucked up." There weren't words to describe how twisted the whole thing was. Kaito and her. Her dad and his dad and her mom. Kaitou KID.

She forced herself to think of all the years they had been together, all the wonderful moments of friendship, of the overwhelming affection that consumed her when he smiled. Did he hold all those things just as precious?

Then there had to be a way to make this right. She wanted to be a hero, right? That meant doing the right thing. That meant reaching out and giving people second, third, fourth chances. "If you really love me, if this is  _real_  and not just another game to you… Then, turn yourself in."

Kaito's hand pulled away, and she clenched her eyes shut at the sight of it. This was her ultimatum. "What?" He asked, as if he didn't understand. She forced her eyes open and looked into his face and tried to see and comprehend, to perceive the way Hakuba could.

He was staring at her with horror plain across his face. She felt the same, but forced the revulsion down. She could bear to see Kaito in chains, behind bars, locked away, if it meant they'd have a chance at that  _someday._ "Go to jail, do your time, and when you get back out, we could… we could—" Have everything they'd ever wanted together.

"We could  _what_?" Kaito snarled, and she shuddered at his vehemence, the contempt burning in his eyes. "I could  _what_  Aoko, live happily ever after with you, reformed? A good little citizen? I should just let it go?" He loomed above her, face twisted, and suddenly, she really could see him the same way Hakuba did. And it burned. "Should just give up my freedom and my dreams? Forget about my father, forget about his murder, and lead a pretty little vapid life with _you_?"

Vapid. That's what he thought of their time together. That's what he thought of the  _someday_  she'd been chasing after for years.

Shit, shit, shit. It hurt too much to breath suddenly, and she couldn't help but screech against the pain. "I'm trying to do the right thing!"

And those words seemed to just turn all the fire in Kaito off. He stood before her, still and unyielding. As he began to speak again, steady and vicious and perfectly pitched, she could see disdain in the edges of his mouth and the lifting of his nostrils. "You all think you're so much better than everybody else, don't you? Like to pretend you know what's best, that you can decide who's good and who's evil. Like to play judge, jury, and executioner just because you woke up one morning with superpowers? Like to interfere where you aren't wanted, enforce your ideals on everyone else just because they don't have the means to stand up to you?" The words seemed to swirl around her like receding waves, soft but insistent, and she couldn't find space to refute him. "Even now, you're acting like you have some sort of moral high ground. Bullshit, Aoko. You didn't join the Irregulars to  _save_ and  _protect._  We both know you didn't want Kaitou KID behind bars for the greater good. This is all about payback because  _you_  think KID tore your family apart." The carriage was back at the ground now. She hadn't even noticed it descending. "But you know what, Aoko? Your amazing, heroic Overseers tore  _my_  family apart." With a shudder, the carriage settled down at the platform and the door squealed as the door swung open. "And I won't stop until they pay." And with those final words, Kaito stormed out. She tried to chase after him, yelling his name in unrestrained fury, but like the thief of her nightmares, he disappeared from her grasp long before she ever reached him.

* * *

 

The challenge had been announced very suddenly, but it was hardly out of character for KID to accept a spontaneous invitation. Shinichi was rather impressed with the setup they had managed in a few scant hours. Everything had been put together flawlessly, from impressive security systems to a secured and easily defended venue.

Now, he could only wait for the target to arrive. Shinichi didn't doubt that KID would, because KID was too egotistical to let a threat to his reputation go unaddressed. Which was good, because Shinichi had  _words_  for that thief. Words he'd been tempted to just post on his site, because  _fuck_  professionalism.

At the very least, the heist site wasn't the worst that had ever been chosen, despite the rush. Shinichi was technically not supposed to be allowed on the site of a heist since the Nara National Museum Murder Case, organizer or not.

Thankfully, Shinichi had  _connections_. Namely, one passionate sponsor of his website also known as Suzuki Jirokichi, who just  _happened_  to be the owner of a stunning art piece right up KID's alley and was more than happy to have an opportunity to rub it in KID's face.

"The usual deal, Kudo-kun!" Suzuki guffawed as they shouldered past a furious Nakamori. "I look forward to being on your front page tomorrow!"

"Much obliged." Shinichi replied with a smirk that didn't promise anything positive. With Suzuki, press was press. What that press actually said rarely mattered so long as his picture was front and center.

Of course, with how Shinichi intended for tonight to go, a very  _different_  picture may end up heading his site by the end of the night.

The hopeful heist site was a wild mess of activity, like always. Once upon a time, he would have done what he could to manage it, but Shinichi had long ago realized that trying to keep the KID Taskforce organized was harder than herding cats and twice as fruitless. At this point, the Taskforce was more bark than bite, anyway. Everyone knew that the only ones that actually stood a chance at catching KID was the Overseers, and well, they weren't coming.

Funny how that worked.

The Irregulars would probably show, but Shinichi didn't care about them tonight. He had only one objective, and he knew exactly how to obtain it.

After all, the sudden announcement severely limited KID's preparation time, which meant the thief wouldn't be able to pull off anything too flashy. And that made him predictable.

So Shinichi slipped through the mess and venue, going up. KID would be reactionary, and when KID had to react and not plan, he moved to higher ground.

The venue's neighboring building's roof wasn't very impressive or maintained, but it did have a convenient place to lie in wait for the night's guest-of-honor. So Shinichi settled down with his camera ready.

Almost an hour later, once his body had grown old and stiff in the night air and he was starting to think KID was going to stand them up after all, there was a strange shift in the air.

It was almost imperceptible in the dark, but a black mass touched down on the roof. A man in a black cloak that undoubtably concealed a folded hang glider stood, moving as silently as the moon crossing the sky.

Shinichi bit his lip, waiting for just the right moment. The man pushed off his black hood and cloak, revealing familiar white, and just as he started to lift his top hat and monocle to his face, Shinichi pushed the button.

A harsh flash of light cut through the dark, briefly illuminating the stunned face of the white-clothed thief. Shinichi pulled the camera back to himself in an instant, recoiling back around the corner of his hiding place with a grin twitching at his lips. Behind him, KID spluttered, before calling out in a strangled voice.

"Hey, wait!"

Like hell that was going to work, Shinichi thought, rushing back towards the stairwell. Nobody had ever gotten a clear photo of the phantom thief's face, despite his only coverage being a monocle and a top hat. Most of his continuing intrigue came from his incredible use of lighting and misdirection and known talent for disguise; the sweat that had been dripping down his cheek proved that it wasn't a latex mask but his true face hidden under the brim of that hat tonight.

Shinichi was only meters away from the stairwell back downstairs when something big and heavy collided with his back. His breath left him in a broken cough as he went down, hitting the gravely rooftop hard.

Damn. He'd been betting that he'd be able to outrun KID just this once, but the stiffness of his limbs from such a long wait must have slowed him down.

"I said wait!" The voice had regained its arrogant lilt, and was much, much closer. Shinichi struggled to rise, but the dead weight of KID, arms wrapped around his torso and entire body mass settling on Shinichi's back, did not yield. He only succeeded in scraping his own cheek against the grit. "That wasn't very nice. Sneaking around isn't good sportsmanship." KID huffed, tone turning teasing for a moment, as he shifted above Shinichi. Shinichi tried to pry his arms free from the other's tight grip, but the thief held fast, tutting.

"Says the thief." Shinichi grunted, struggling to lace his voice with the appropriate amount of sour irony while still fighting to regain his breath.

"I'm expected to. We all have our roles to play in this game, stringer." Shinichi rolled his eyes. "Now, hand over the camera, okay?"  
The good thing about this position, being trapped on his stomach underneath the Kaitou KID? His camera, still clutched firmly in his right hand, was trapped underneath him too. The thief hadn't had a chance to slip it from his fingers as they went down.

The bad thing? He couldn't help but try to get a read on kid. But instead of the mocking amusement he expected to feel overwhelming all more productive, telling thoughts, Shinichi just felt  _cold._ KID felt cold.

And that freaked Shinichi out. He forced down a flinch at the scrape of KID's chilled mind against his senses and continued the banter. "Now who's being the bad sport? Your role is to sneak around, my role is to take pictures of you sneaking around and publish them online or deliver them to the police."

"Oh? Sorry, but my role is to steal things. Like your camera."

"I noticed. But this seems more like a mugging than your usual heists. It's not very classy."

"You think my usual heists are classy?"

Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Shinichi usually, begrudgingly, liked their jokes. But not with this physical contact, not with KID's blizzard of an emotional state washing over him. "I think you're a showboating moron. Now get off!" Surprisingly, KID released him with a short laugh. In an instant, he was standing, tall and unwrinkled, like nothing had happened and Shinichi had hit the dusty ground by himself.

Which was going to smart in the morning, definitely. He had skinned his knee and elbow raw, based on the flaring pain that laced through his limbs as he levered himself up, camera safely tucked away in his inside pocket.

A white gloved hand appeared before him, outstretched. "Sorry, are you hurt?" KID asked, voice less mocking and more genuine, now. He ignored the offer, and stood up himself, not trusting the hand to not somehow end up relieving him of his tools. And maybe, just a little, he didn't want to experience whatever crazy shit was going on in the thief's head again.

KID measured him with half-hidden eyes and a cool smile. "This isn't your usual scene, stringer. To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"It's been a slow news week." Shinichi drawled, and they both knew it was anything but.

The thief laughed again, the sound carrying joyfully through the night air. Something about it was forced, or at least different from usual. Cold. "Really? And here I was hoping you were continuing your Irregular besmirchment streak."

"Well, I have room for that in my article about unmasking you too." Shinichi didn't like how relaxed KID was. KID was always at his most easygoing before he got serious. He didn't like the weird tension in the air either.

"Might want to make the Irregulars the headline." KID winked at him from behind the monocle, dark eyes glittering with the reflection of distant city lights. "After all, your story may be a little dry without photographic evidence."

Shinichi's eyes narrowed. "We both know I just got a picture of your face."

"Did you, though?" KID pointed at the camera with a flick of his wrist. Shinichi stiffened with the movement, wary of KID's every motion and mind hyper focused on every twitch. What trick was he going to pull? A smoke bomb? Another tranquilizer? Some stage magic?

Like hell that would work. "Don't think you can trick me so easily. You're going to pull something the moment I check. Even I've used that trick before." With a gun, but the comparison still stood. "But, I'll cut you a deal. Give me back the files, and I'll delete it."

KID stepped forward, a new smile dancing across his face: not the usual smirk, more genuinely entertained, but it still had that familiar arrogant twist. Shinichi watched him cautiously, taking slow steps back to maintain the distance between them.

Something was definitely  _off_  about KID.

KID must have seen the wariness in Shinichi's face, because he immediately backed off, acquiescing. There was still laughter on his lips and that was normal but it felt wrong.

"Sorry, but no deal, stringer. I don't need that. The picture has already disappeared."

Reluctantly, and keeping a heavy eye on the thief, Shinichi withdrew the camera anew. He was familiar enough with it that he could turn it on and bring up his saved photos without even needing to look down.

For only a fraction of a second, he glanced away. And the picture was really gone. The last saved photo was the one he'd taken during the initial chase.

"What?" He hissed, and KID laughed. The bastard was always laughing.

"See? It's already gone."

It was impossible, he knew KID did not have a chance to even touch the camera, let alone delete a specific picture. For all his tricks and sleight of hand, logically, it couldn't be done. Others might chalk it up to KID's particularly skilled brand of deceit, but Shinichi trusted his own instincts.

Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, was the truth. If KID hadn't manually deleted the photo, he had done so with other means.

Shinichi's eyes widened, the possibilities laid before him in startling clarity. "That's it. That's your power, isn't it?"

KID hummed carelessly. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"You can control electronics. It explains everything." How KID so successfully pulled of his heists. How he always managed to avoid revealing too much to the cameras. How none of the bugs and trackers the police had tried ever worked. The Irregulars jet failing them in Europe.

"That's an interesting theory. You should join one of those 'KID Theory' boards." KID totally  _would_  read online forums about himself. Shinichi would bet his camera the thief thought they were hilarious. In fact, the narcissistic idiot probably moderated half of them himself.

But Shinichi recognized a deflection when he saw one. "That's how you hack the latest technology so easily. That's how you fool all the security systems-all the tech involved in these stupid heists really works for you!"

"Like I said, very interesting concept there, stringer."

"Oh, I'm sure the police and the public will find it  _very_  interesting."

"Ah,  _please."_ KID leveled Shinichi a look, and Shinichi hid a shiver at the ghastly sensation of  _cold._  "If you've realized that, stringer, you must realize that particular information will never see the light of day. Anything you publish, I'll delete. Make your website crash and disappear. Any footage, any proof? Gone in an instant. Even the cute little recording device hidden in your jacket right now is under my control." Well, that ruined plan B through F.

"I'll tell the Irregulars." The threat sounded firm. Shinichi was almost proud of the delivery.

KID's expression somehow turned more mocking than before. "Ha! Do you actually think they'll believe you?"

That— _that_ hit a sore spot. It hurt. Shinichi gritted his teeth against the sudden rise of aggravation and insecurity. "I need those files back! They're important! Children's lives are at stake!"

KID blinked, looking genuinely bemused, and the mockery momentarily gave way. "What do these have to do with kids?" For the first time in the conversation, KID seemed serious. His eyes were dark and piercing under the gleaming white of his top-hat's brim, crisp as the night air. "I know you've been working on a case about disappearing street kids. But why would the research the Cats took have anything to do with that?"

Shinichi bit the inside of his lip, struggling to come up with a satisfactory answer—no, a deflection. "...It's just a hunch. I'm not telling you anything. But I need those files to figure out what the Cats are up to, too. Give them back."

KID gazed at Shinichi, grim consideration clear on his face. Finally, there was no more laughter or posturing, just the strange tension and the  _cold_. With a twist of his gloved hand, suddenly a familiar drive was gripped between KID's fingers. "Well, I'm not completely opposed to giving this back to you. I already copied them, after all." Shinichi took a step forward, despite knowing KID had to be building up to some kind of catch. "But I'm a thief; I don't like just giving back the stuff I stole for free." And there it was. Shinichi met the thief's eyes challengingly, daring him to continue. "I think we can broker a deal."

Shinichi watched as the drive he needed disappeared again with a snap of KID's fingers, too wary to feel hopeful about those words. "What kind of deal?"

"A sort of 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' kind of thing. Two weeks from now, help me with a little game, and at the end, I'll return the files to you." That didn't sound good. And Shinichi didn't think he  _had_  two weeks, not if he wanted to find any of the missing children alive.

"One week." He'd definitely regret agreeing to this. "Don't waste my time."

"I would say this isn't a negotiation." KID was suddenly far,  _far_ too close, sweeping into Shinichi's space like a sheet blowing in the wind. A gloved hand seized his own, turning his palm up to press something hard and square into his skin. "But I like you, stringer. One week it is then." Insistent fingers forced his to close around the gift. The thief's eyes seemed to burn in the darkness, demanding Shinichi's unwavering attention.

 _Cold._ Shinichi tore his gaze from KID's unfathomable eyes and glanced down. "What's this?"

In an instant, the thief was gone, slipping away into the night like a ghost. His voice echoed in Shinichi's ears, but the words couldn't have been louder than a whisper. "A sign of my goodwill. We'll be in touch."

The building's roof was left empty except for Shinichi and the wind. He peeled his fist open, staring down at the small object sitting innocuously in the center of his palm.

It was a memory card, the label marked with a little black bird sticker.

Shinichi took a shuddering breath and gripped the card tight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the fantastic feedback, everyone. I love hearing what everyone thinks and all the theories and thoughts everyone has. 
> 
> Kaito and Aoko are such dramatic characters in MK, I wanted to reflect that in their confrontation. 
> 
> Also, it took me an absurd amount of time to decide on the chapter title. So many good options.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed! And Happy Pride Month!


	6. Lost Your Mind in the Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, guys...and sorry there isn't a new SD chapter yet. I hope to finish it in the next two weeks or so. A lot has been going on. Also, this chapter probably has mistakes all over the place, but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible. As always, thank you for all the lovely comments! Shout out to everyone who writes lengthy reviews, you guys are my favorites. I love seeing you guys pick at the little details.
> 
> Here we go!

**Chapter 6: Lost Your Mind in the Sound**

* * *

 

Aoko came back to Headquarters more devastated than she left it.

He didn’t feel guilty, and he certainly didn’t regret telling her the truth. Even if it caused her pain, she needed to know.

Saguru just wished it hurt her _less_. He knew she and Kuroba had been toeing the line between friendship and romance for years, had watched their awkward fumblings around each other for long enough, but he had always doubted how much of the attraction was genuine. Kuroba was an enigma on all fronts, and somedays Saguru wondered if the criminal mastermind felt anything at all. And Aoko, pitifully, always seemed more attached to an rose-tinted past and idealized childhood dreams, anthropomorphized in her own mind as her childhood friend and roguish romeo Kuroba Kaito, rather than the person Kuroba actually was.

Now, those dreams were crumbling in her hands, and Aoko seemed to be crumbling with them. She returned pale and shaking so badly that it was a wonder she made it back at all. She had been shuddering on her feet when she had come through the hangar doors, and from the moment Saguru saw her, he knew he was out of his depth. He wished he hadn’t dismissed the others earlier. Either Ran or Kazuha would probably be better equipped to help. But Saguru and Yuusaku were the only one’s left in the base. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Aoko speak with their mentor like this.

He ended up trailing after her as she made her way to the break room. She collapsed on a couch there, desolate and red-eyed.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he settled in the seat across from her, even knowing that she was obviously _not._

Aoko simply shook her head slowly.

“What happened?” He prompted, despite already assuming the worst of it. “The bugs went dead the moment you two got on the ferris wheel. KID--Kuroba must have planted jammers all over the place beforehand.” Had they had the opportunity to better plan the meeting, that probably could have been prevented, but honestly they’d never had any luck out planning KID before either.

“He--he all but admitted it. I guess. I don’t know, we both...said a lot of things.” That sounded somewhere between _not good_ and _disastrous_.  

He couldn’t think of anything comforting to say to that. “Anything we can use to--” Get him. “Help us stop KID?”

“I--No. Nothing. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t surprised to hear that; in fact, he had hardly expected anything damning to come out of this meeting at all. Kuroba was too careful for that. Saguru himself probably wouldn’t have done any better in her situation. “It’s not your fault, Aoko-kun. I’ve been trying to get him to slip up for months now and--”

“Hawk.” A cold voice interrupted him, and they both glanced up to the doorway, where the dark silhouette of the Baron was illuminated by the hall lights.

“Yes sir?” Saguru said immediately, tensing. Yuusaku wouldn’t disturb a conversation like this without good reason, but honestly another mission was the last thing they needed right now.

But the world never turned based on their needs.

Yuusaku’s expression was uncharacteristically serious, his lips settled in a thin line in contrast to his usual affable smile. Obviously, the situation didn’t bode well to him. “KID’s on the move.”

Saguru was on his feet in an instant. “ _What?”_ KID was a villain that operated, bizarrely, on a schedule. His heists were enormous feats of trickery and planning, and no doubt required days, if not weeks of reconnaissance, hence how he always announced his targets before time. That he was breaking pattern said much about Kuroba’s current state of mind.

“Suzuki Jirokichi has put out a challenge for Kaitou KID, for tonight. “

“That’s sudden.” Not to mention inconvenient. “Of all days.”

“Indeed. Gather your team, I’m sending you four to confront him.” Yuusaku’s words left no room for disagreement and paid no heed to Aoko, who wisely said nothing, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern in his tone. “No doubt he’s unbalanced and unprepared, so right now is the best chance to gain an advantage over him.”

“Understood.” Saguru had no idea how KID might be feeling right now, actually. He could never be sure how much Kuroba actually cared about Aoko, if he really loved her or just saw her as something to use. However the confrontation between the two had went, Kuroba was at very least furious over his identity being revealed to someone so integral to his civilian life.

Yuusaku leveled him with a firm gaze. Saguru straightened instinctually, swallowing. “I will be clear: failure is not an option this time, Hawk. You must apprehend KID. To ensure this mission goes smoothly, I will accompany you as support.”

Saguru felt his mouth fall open in surprise. The Night Baron rarely ever chaperoned their missions in person, let alone joined them in the field. Saguru was the only one who ever worked alongside the Baron as his partner and former sidekick, and while he still accompanied his mentor on patrol regularly, this was different.

“You’re--you’re going to go after KID directly?” The Baron, and most Overseers, avoided KID, leaving him to smaller sanctioned hero teams and vigilantes. The idea was supposed to be that since KID was typically nonviolent and _courteous,_ in his own absurd way, that he would serve as an experience for younger heroes and bait for vigilantes that needed to be rounded up. The Overseers were usually needed elsewhere, fighting dangerous super-villains and assisting with disasters.

Yuusaku shook his head, smiling slightly. Saguru was a little relieved to see it, but the following words cut that feeling right out of him. “No, I will merely be ensuring that nothing goes wrong by taking command. We cannot afford for this opportunity to be wasted by mistakes.”

At the final word, Saguru heard Aoko flinch. He felt the same way, honestly, being told to take the backseat and surrender field leadership of the team to their mentor. But recently, both their flaws and shortcomings had been placed in stark relief. He couldn’t complain when two out of three missions he led in the past month ended in failure. “Understood, sir.” He forced the words out around the developing lump in his throat. “I will inform the others.”

“What about me?” Aoko asked quietly. She was sitting up straight now, blue eyes focused piercingly on Yuusaku’s face without a single waver.

“You’re still on stand-by, Aoko-kun. You’re in no state to fight.” The words seemed cold, but the way Yuusaku aid them was more gentle than Saguru expected. There was a rarely seen sensitivity buried in the rejection.

Aoko stared on, unwavering in her silence. They left her like that, sitting alone in the break-room, and something like unease twisted in Saguru’s gut.

* * *

Right from the start, they were playing catch up with KID. They arrived moments after the show room filled with odorous gas and smoke, just to watch the guardsmen and task force members crumble to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. The air filtration system that was supposed to prevent these exact occurrences had clearly failed, and the gas masks the task force had been assigned had been sabotaged ahead of time. Moreover, the exits that were supposed to immediately automatically be sealed in the case of the alarms being tripped hadn’t closed.

“KID’s already got the painting.” Saguru growled. If only they had arrived earlier, they could have already spread out and marked the exits.

“He’s probably heading up to the roof to make his escape.” Hattori said, carefully backing away from the encroaching smoke.

Saguru quickly pulled up the museum’s layout on the screen hidden in the sleeve of his glove, and transferred the information to display in the side of his mask’s vision. The building was set up in a hollow prism around a courtyard; each of the five floors connected by two sets of stairs and a main hall with escalators. The painting had been placed in the secure vault room in the basement of the building, and the dummy painting had been kept in the security room on the first floor. By the thin dispersal of the gas in the security room, Saguru figured KID was probably well on his way up, reaching around the third floor by now. Any opposing guards and obstacles were notably absent, but there was no telling if that was because KID had somehow removed them, or if it was simply due to the task force's rushed attempt at security.

Either way, they were on their own.

“Angel, Heliopause, fly up to the roof through the courtyard entrances and then split up to block off both stairwells. Banshee, you and I will split up and head up the stairs from here. The Baron is monitoring the main hall, so we should be able to catch KID in between us.”

“Got it!” Kazuha was immediately off, ricocheting against the walls instead of running, so as to build up as much kinetic energy as possible.

“A pincer attack, eh?” Hattori muttered as he and Ran shot off towards the windows. The Baron said nothing, so Saguru could only assume he had no issues with the plan.

The stairs, of course, were a obstacle all on their own. The two fliers had it easy, and Kazuha could literally bounce her way up, but Saguru felt each flight he rushed upwards. Sometimes, he hated being the least enhanced, and the thought made Aoko’s absence ache almost as much as his hamstrings. She would commiserate with him.

_“Well, what do we have here?”_

Saguru stumbled on the next step, his heart hammering in his chest as a mocking voice echoed in his ears.

KID. He would recognize that obnoxious lilt and smooth tenor anywhere. But the voice wasn’t being carried from above by the closed stairwell. It was speaking directly to him.

But that was impossible. There was no way KID managed to hack into the frequency of their comms.

 _“A flightless little birdie.”_ The voice laughed, and the sound of it seemed to worm insidiously inside Saguru’s head. He checked the comm number of the transmission as the volume of his own rose unbidden.

B-5. Aoko?

“You stole Tsuyu’s comm?” Saguru hissed, then flinched as harsh static burst over the link, painfully loud to his heightened senses. However KID had gotten ahold of one of their comm-links, he clearly intended to take full advantage of it.

 _“Sorry about that, Kiwi darlin’. Interference, ya kno’?”_ KID’s voice wavered into an Osakan accent as he spoke, and Saguru threw himself up the stairs with renewed fury.

“Helio, Angel, Banshee! Come in!” He snarled, tuning into the group frequency, but there was nothing but a mocking chuckle in response.

_“Your friends are a little...indisposed.”_

How? No--it couldn’t be true. Ran and Hattori were both not only extremely powerful, but they were masters of hand to hand combat. KID couldn’t possibly take them down in a direct confrontation; the only explanation was that trickery was afoot.

Not surprising, considering they were dealing with the world’s most notorious stage magician, but this wasn’t KID’s normal MO. He was completely breaking pattern.

 _“Hurry up and join us, won’t you?”_ KID purred over the line, and the sound of it was so unnerving it had his skin prickling. _“Oh, and watch your step.”_

“What--” He heard it before he saw it, the metallic and rythmic clicking of something falling down the stairs. Small, light-weight, cylindrical--that was all he noticed in the fraction of a second he glimpsed it before it exploded into light with a cruel, mechanical laugh. The automatic shutters of his mask, designed specifically to protect his sensitive eyes, didn’t snap shut quickly enough.

The blinding, magnesium bright blast burned his vision into whiteness.

“Shit!”

White turned to a darkness of swirling, mind-rending color. Even as he forced his eyes back open, the afterimage burned into his retinas made it nearly impossible to see in front of him, as if the world was a movie reel someone had burned a cigarette through. Still, Saguru forced himself onwards, relying on the regularity of the stair steps to compensate. When he burst out onto the landing of the fourth floor, he regretted his momentum immensely as the floor turned slick underneath his feet and he found himself careening down the hall. Arms pinwheeling, he struggled to stop without crashing to the ground, but nothing seemed to slow him.

And whatever he was hurtling at, it stank of something akin to rubber, or maybe tree sap. He snapped out a Birdclaw and shot it behind himself. The grappling hook caught the wall of the stairwell and the line pulled taunt, the tension dragging him to a painfully abrupt halt.

“Oh, nice reflexes!” KID laughed again, and this time it wasn’t over the comm link. Saguru snapped his head up, forcing aside his disorientation to find his opponent by scent. Further down the hall, past the odorous trap, was the familiar wafting fragrance of roses and bird feathers.

Saguru tested his footing--after the incident with the Cats the other day, he’d had his boots equipped with sturdier soles with better grip. Even so, the floor was alarmingly slippery--he’d be an idiot to try and run on. Not to mention the trap he was still struggling to see through the spots in his vision.

Plan B then. Saguru retracted the Birdclaw and carefully burst forward, floor already sliding under his feet, but he allowed himself to slide rapidly towards the wall of the hall. At precisely the right moment, he pushed off the floor and jumped, hoping desperately he judged the distance right despite his failing vision. His feet found purchase, and for a heart-stopping handful of moments, he dashed along the wall.

It wasn't for long, but that was all he needed to get past the obstacle and throw himself at KID.

But KID danced away, viper quick, and took off in a run down the hall, the white of his mantle just visible behind the darkened forms still maring Saguru’s sight. Saguru followed at a dead sprint, navigating around the corners KID sharply twisted around and judging distances more with hearing than anything else.

That proved to be a mistake.

“YOU BASTARD!” The furious shout rose into a horrible, deafening shriek that cut into Saguru’s head like a white hot, serrated blade. Banshee--somewhere in front--his noise cancelers, why weren’t they--

Sharp, piercing agony.

If he was screaming in pain, he couldn’t hear it.

Saguru collapsed, hands clamped over his ears in vain as the whole world seemed to spin. His vision was darkening again, tunneling in waves that rose and receded with the pounding in his head. Barely, he could make out the white form of his enemy before him, and behind that, some sort of gelatinous mass of color and struggling limbs.

His team.

KID was saying something, but Saguru couldn’t hear anything at all. There was only the ringing in his ears. Instead he read the bastard’s lips with difficulty, struggling to identify the words without their auditory cue and the world fading in and out.

_Something wrong, Tantei-san?_

Bastard.

Saguru forced himself back on his feet, struggling not to sway. Despite his disorientation, he could make out his team behind KID. The three of them were trapped in a mess of what must have been some sort of extremely sticky polymer. They were stuck together in a ball of sickenly yellow goop that reeked of the same sappy, rubbery scent as the tap earlier. Ran was clearly struggling to break free, but she was so thoroughly buried in the gunk that it didn’t allow her enough movement to exert her immense strength. Kazuha was much the same, movements so constricted that she couldn’t absorb any kinetic energy. She was staring at Saguru with horror that was apparent despite her mask, and her mouth was carefully clamped shut.

Gradually, the ringing in his ears gave way to identifiable sounds, and his vision corrected itself. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you, miss.” KID was mocking Kazuha carelessly over his shoulder, just casually waiting for Saguru to pull himself back together, the condescending asshole. “We wouldn’t want poor Hawk to go completely deaf, do we?”

Kazuha flinched, and Saguru saw red.

He was sick and tired of this bastard hurting his friends, and the anger seemed to rush through his whole body, hot as Heliopause’s fire. He drew the segments of his bo-staff out of their thigh holster, letting the magnetic pull of the pieces snap together as he charged at KID. He took a running leap and swept at the bastard, only for KID to slip out of range like water.

Water. Aoko crying.

KID, laughing.

Saguru stopped thinking and let experience-honed instinct take control.

* * *

 

Shinichi returned to the heist with an elevated heartbeat and a nauseating sensation of dread. He had gotten what he wanted, in a way, but that just meant that the night was still ongoing for everyone else. KID would be going for the painting, and Shinichi had a responsibility to make this whole fiasco into a worthy news article.

Admittedly though, the journalistic integrity behind writing a report on an event he essentially organized himself was questionable at best.

Questionable media ethics aside, the venue had only gotten more chaotic in his absence. KID must have already made his move, because when Shinichi dashed into the hall leading to the display room of the target, he found thick pink smoke leaking out under the doors.

So the display room was out. Just to be safe, he pulled out his handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose as he rushed past, heading for the stairs to the next floor. If KID had already gassed the taskforce, there was a good chance the thief already had the painting or was in the process of relieving it from the subdued security system. And that meant he’d be heading for an escape route next, of which the most likely option was either the roof (heavily guarded, where the Irregulars were likely to land) or the fourth floor balcony.

Except waiting at the top of the stairs was a figure cloaked in black, not white.

Shinichi paused on the last few steps, then jerked back. That towering silhouette, the cloak that seemed to absorb all light, the unmistakable shape of a top hat--it all struck him like a physical blow.

_He stared up, up, up through the hole in the roof. A dark figure was blocking the light, casting a horrible shadow down on them. The light spilled around the figure’s  sharp edges, hiding nothing of the the Baron’s intimidating profile._

_The white mask was grinning, grinning, grinning, and the star was dead._

The steps seemed to disappear under his feet, and he was falling. He hit the stairs hard, scrambling to stop his fall and grateful for the coarse carpet under his hands.

The Night Baron. The Night Baron was right in front of him.

Holy shit.

What was an _Overseer--_ no, _the_ Overseer--doing _here?_

Shinichi had just fallen on his ass after slipping down half a flight of stairs and he _still_ knew this was going to be one hell of an article. His descent had been far from graceful, or quiet, and the Baron was at the top of the stairs now, white mask grinning down on him.

Well, no point in going for a candid shot. Shinichi pulled out his camera, and without bothering to fuss with the settings, took several quick shots. The flashes illuminated the dim stairway, painfully bright, but the Baron didn’t flinch.

“You shouldn’t be here.” The Baron said, in a voice of gravel and anger.

Shinichi swallowed and switched from camera to camcorder. The Baron was one to talk. “The Night Baron. We meet again.” Stupid thing to say. Stupid.

The Baron didn’t reply, leaving nothing despite chilly silence between them. Shinichi zoomed in a little, adjusted his angle, and continued, hoping to catch the hero’s interest. “You probably don’t remember. I once harassed your sidekick?” Silence. Well, that was fair. He was mostly testing the waters now, but if the Baron didn’t remember him being _there_ , it was probably safe to approach. Probably. “No, it doesn’t matter. Please answer a couple questions for me.” He took a couple steps up the stairs to reach the top. Even standing on the same landing, the Baron still towered over him in height and presence.

The world’s greatest detective, the leading authority on justice, the head advisor of the ISHA Board, turned away, his mask rotating in the darkness. “You need to leave.” He said, voice hard and commanding. It was infinitely more threatening in person than on TV.

Shinichi wished he had been able to prepare for this situation. He had long ago memorized the kinds of questions he wanted to ask in the case of being lucky enough to encounter an Overseer, but when actually faced with the elusive dark hero himself, he felt like his brain was shriveling up and crumbling into sand. Get a grip, Kudo, he chided himself. Ask a question. “The Overseers have been ignoring the matter of Kaitou KID for--”

“ _That wasn’t a request.”_ The Baron did not take so much as a step closer to him, but still Shinichi flinched slightly as he was interrupted harshly. The atmosphere in the room--no, the presence of the Baron was suffocating. He felt like his very thoughts were being consumed before he could properly think them. “Leave, or I will _make_ you.” The Baron left no room for argument, but Shinichi had never let that stop him before.

He forced himself to breath easy, to stay loose and cocky. He was a civilian reporter, and a high profile one at that: the Baron couldn’t touch him. “...Are you threatening me?” He asked, voice smooth as ice. Even if his mind was worryingly blank, that only meant his head was startlingly clear.

“Hardly. Now leave.” Leave. He imagined standing up and just leaving the heist, news be damned. Wouldn’t it be nice to just go home?

No. Shinichi had never thought such a thing in his entire life. Which meant that _that_ wasn’t his thought _._ Even realizing that, the compulsion was hard to shake. His whole body itched to walk back down the stairs and out the door; even keeping his camera aloft seemed to take momentous effort.

But Shinichi had spent years learning how to close his mind off, to block invading presences out, to divide his own thoughts off from the world. Even a direct, purposeful invasion like this was nothing more than an everyday inconvenience.

And two could play that game.

He let himself go limp, obediently lurching on his feet, as if to stumble back home like a good little teenager. The pressure rescinded, slightly, and in the brief lull, Shinichi lunged forward, seizing the Baron’s wrist with all the strength he could muster. Between the sleeve and the glove he had no access to direct skin, but it would have to do.

He forced his awareness forward with all the power he could muster. “Are the deaths of the four civilians eight years ago the reason the Overseers refuse to go after Kaitou KID?” The moment the question, moderately demanding, left his lips, he was hit with a memory so powerful is may as well have been a gust of wind.

_He was standing high up, looking down through the wreckage of a roof. Through the crumbling insulation and concrete, he could see the floor below, and the crumpled form haloed by the moonlight. A man in white lay at the bottom, his limbs twisted unnaturally, and a pool of dark red slowly spilling around him like a spreading stain._

_He was dead, that much anyone could see._

_Someone made a hiccuping, gasping noise. At the edge of the light, mostly obscured by the darkness, was a little boy, covering his mouth in both horror and obvious terror. “No, no, no, Dad, no!”_

_He--his view shook, jolting. The child was crying now, breath ragged, eyes locked onto the broken corpse, before suddenly looking forward. He followed the child’s gaze only to clench his teeth around a gasp of his own. Directly on the other side of the corpse was another child, frozen still with wide blue eyes._

_“No--no, why are you here?”_

Violently, Shinichi was forced from the the memory and the Baron’s mind as if being dragged from underwater into the startling clarity of fresh air. An intensely powerful mental force crashed into his mind. All thoughts and emotions ceased, evaporating away until he was merely swaying dully on his feet, a puppet suspended on strings.

“ _Leave.”_ The Baron ordered, and Shinichi turned on his heel and left, memories crumbling like sand.

* * *

Saguru charged once again, staff in one hand and razor-sharp shuriken in the other. He released each with precision accuracy, but KID was nothing if not the essence of the artful dodger. But the bastard was no longer smiling, the clear ferocity in Saguru’s attacks keeping the thief on the defensive back foot. This time, it was Saguru acting, and KID reacting, and it showed.

Frustration was giving bay to cool determination as Saguru concentrated on his target, forgetting all indignities and slights.

 _Personal feelings have no place on the battlefield of a hero,_ his master had told him long ago, and Saguru had taken it to heart. Something about KID always tested his resolve, though.

“Heliopause, can’t you melt us out of here?” Ran was saying, her voice strained. But she sounded fine.

“Not without burnin’ Banshee to a crisp!” Hattori harriedly replied, and at that there was an impressive amount of muffled yelling from Kazuha, who kept her mouth carefully clamped shut. Clearly, Saguru was on his own.

Despite himself, despite the situation, Saguru couldn’t help but crack a smile. The anger finally bled away completely, the almost maddening haze easing to a more familiar aggravation that he easily pushed aside.

Everything was fine. He could manage; he was vastly superior to KID in single-hand combat and had just as many tricks and gadgets up his sleeves.

Even if most of them _didn’t seem to be working._ He’d think about how KID sabotaged his gear _later_ , for now he swiped downwards with his staff, forcing the thief to dodge right into the path a Birdclaw. The hook skimmed past KID’s foot, and with a jerk, Saguru had it swinging back around around KID’s legs. The tangled thief was swiftly dragged off balance by another jerk on the line, and KID toppled over with a undignified yelp.

Saguru didn’t hesitate to rush forward and bring his staff down on KID’s obnoxious hat. But the moment the steel touched the thief’s prone form, he erupted into white smoke. Instinctually, Saguru flinched back and held his breath, feeling the line going slack in his hand.

Damn escape artist.

The smoke set off the fire sprinklers, but the spray came down with unnatural pressure, each drop stinging like a pebble.

Saguru cursed, struggling to find the white-clothed thief in the rising mist. The water was washing away all the scents, and the hissing of the sprinklers drowned out KID’s already near silent footsteps.

He still sensed the strike seconds before it hit, just managing to duck in time for a dart and some other projectile to skirt past his face; there was no missing the hum of electricity. The dart-like electrodes were wireless, but he suspected if they buried into his skin, the charge they release would less than harmless.

Still, the spray was abating, and with a quick trajectory calculation, he knew where KID would be next.

Saguru threw himself around and released a barrage of shuriken.

KID stepped easily out of the way, circling Saguru with feline grace and nonchalance. Saguru had another volley in hand in an instant, but paused when he realized what KID had placed his back towards: the other Irregulars.

If Saguru shot and missed, he could end up injuring his own team.

“Coward.” Saguru hissed as KID swaggered backwards, but he stayed his hand, feeling the cool metal of his shuriken even through his gloves.

The thief merely hummed as he turned to admire his work. The others snarled up at him from the mess, but it was obvious they still hadn’t managed to pull free.

“Do you like it? I created it just for my critics.” KID said, as if they should be _grateful_. “It’s a special extra-sticky polymer that’s activated by contact with extreme heat.”

Well. That explained a lot. Hattori was hardly difficult to bait, after all.

“You know, if you used that brain of yours for good instead of personal profit, the world would be a better place.” Saguru said, though he really doubted Kuroba would ever care about benefitting others. He was too self-absorbed for that. Yet, he still couldn't help but lament the waste of such a brilliant mind at times. Not just lament, but resent as well. KID could use his talents for so much more than burglary and grand theft-larceny, but actively chose to be an menace to society instead. 

It grinded on his nerves. 

“Oh, but I would be so _less rich._ ” KID pouted exaggeratedly, and Saguru shifted his weight as he waited for an opening. At some point, KID would move, and that would be his chance. “Even when you’re flattering me, you misunderstand, dodo.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“That I’m distracting you.”

_Shit._

The other projectile. The taser. Extreme heat. The pieces fell together in his mind a moment too late.

KID hadn’t been aiming for Saguru at all.

Saguru heard something bubble, and turned just in time to see a mass of gelatinous gum erupt behind him, bursting forth faster than he could flinch backwards. In the blink of an eye, he was trapped, hands and legs stuck in a disgusting ball of god-knows-what.

“Gotcha.” KID celebrated, and Saguru tugged uselessly on his hands. He was stuck up to his elbows: not even pulling out of his gloves would help.

Saguru glowered over his shoulder at his opponent, frustrated with the thief and himself. How had he fallen for that? And where the hell was the Baron? Shouldn’t their mentor have interfered ages ago, when KID commandeered their comms?

Unless KID had found a way to get the Baron out of the picture. Was that even possible? What was the purpose of this, of any of this? The painting wasn’t even that valuable, and from what Saguru could see, KID didn’t even have it on him.

“ _Why?”_ There was no way to say the word with nearly enough venom, but Saguru tried, as if spitting enough acid could melt his bonds.

KID smiled nastily back at him. That was certainly the way to describe KID’s behavior. Nasty.

“You know why.” KID sang back, and Saguru tried to jerk himself free again. Normally, KID would have made his escape by now, but he was clearly hanging around to gloat. And there was nothing Saguru could do about it. 

“You haven’t won yet, Kaito.” A new voice said firmly. KID whirled around, and just for a moment Saguru caught a glimpse of his one unobscured eye, wide with shock.

Aoko stood in the hall, costumed and wild-haired, with a wall of water glistening behind her. The show of power was only matched by the ferocity in her expression.

KID went very, very still. The dangerous kind of _still_ , like a poised viper or the suspended blade of a guillotine. “Well, well, look who decided to join the fun.” He purred, and once again, the sound had shivers running down Saguru’s spine. “Sure you’re making the right choice, _mademoiselle_?”

“Yes.” Aoko said, and Saguru wondered if she felt half as resolute as she looked. He couldn’t imagine how difficult this must be for her. “Are you?” For a moment, her expression softened, eyebrows turning up and mouth falling into a shape that was soft and pleading. “Last chance,” she said, in a voice quiet enough for a confessionary.

If KID saw the appeal of it, of _her_ , he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely watched her cooly, with a condescending smile fluttering on his lips. “Oh, sweetheart.” KID reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver gun. Saguru tensed, testing his bonds, as he watched the weapon warily. KID had never drawn any sort of weapon, besides smoke bombs and flash bangs, on any of them before--the lone exception was the taser, and that hadn’t really been meant for him at all--but he recognized the sleek pistol as the card gun mentioned in the Baron’s reports. “I made my choice a long time ago.”

Aoko took a breath and shut her eyes. When she opened them, they shined with furious tears. The water burst forward without another word, parting around Aoko and rushing towards KID with all the force of a waterfall. KID’s free hand shot forward, pitching one of Saguru’s own liquid nitrogen capsules right into the wave, and Aoko made a choked noise of surprise. Saguru had no idea when in their scrimmage KID had lifted them off him, but he regretted bringing them then. In an instant, the water was frozen solid, trapping Aoko in between two walls of ice. KID didn’t hesitate before tightening his finger around the trigger of his card gun, and a flurry of sharpened cards cut through the air. Aoko threw herself down, but she wasn’t near fast enough to escape the steel sheets that sliced past her arms and legs, leaving behind thin, jagged wounds. The shallow cuts bled sluggishly as Aoko scrambled forward, and the whole hall groaned with the sound of pipes bursting. But the water that came through the walls and ceiling was only met with more freeze pellets, until sleet was flying through the hall in all directions.

“Tsuyu!” Saguru yelled, and for a brief second, her wide, almost panicked eyes met his. “You need more water than he can freeze!” He deliberately looked towards the ceiling, and hopefully, the water main labeled on the map of museum.

Aoko pursed her lips, eyes flashing left and right as she was forced to roll under another volley of cards. KID was shooting with precision that somehow managed to still come off as careless. The smile on his face was deviously sharp and he sniped at Aoko’s hands and legs with almost wild abandon.

She would need to get past him to reach the stairwell to the roof, but he kept her at bay easily. With every jet of water she sprayed at him, he shot half a deck’s worth of cards right back, but while Aoko was struggling to dodge the projectiles, he either slipped around her attacks or froze them midair.

And then Aoko suddenly just stopped, standing still in the center of the hall, an open target.

Saguru’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as KID pointed the gun directly at her head and laughed. “Giving up so soon?”

“Like hell.” Aoko snarled, and she threw her hands up just as KID took the shot. The water gathered around the room suddenly burst into mist that flooded the whole hall, obscuring everything from view--almost the same tactic KID himself had used earlier. Even Saguru struggled to see through the sudden fog, but he could hear Aoko rushing forward and sliding right past the disorientated KID. She sprinted to the stairs, fog condensing back into tendrils of water behind her that whipped at her opponent as he threw himself around to pursue.

The tendrils didn’t last long, frozen solid instantaneously, but Aoko had already made it to the roof. KID was hot on her heels.

Saguru and the others stared after them, helpless as both combatants were already gone.

* * *

Shinichi came back to himself in his own bedroom. He knew he traveled home on his own, but the memories were almost nonexistent, more than if he was simply in a daze.

He didn’t even know why he’d left. He couldn’t remember much of anything after his conversation with KID, except the compulsion to return to the manor. He’d never abandoned a story before.

The footage he’d obtained from the heist was concerning: the memory card and what he recorded earlier that night both.

The most concerning part, though, was that he didn’t remember the encounter showed in the video at all. The video and pictures he had taken clearly showed him encountering the Night Baron and approaching him for an interview, but his memories of the event were hazy and scattered. Had he left just because the Baron told him to?

Something had happened when he grabbed the Baron’s hand. He just couldn’t recall what, and the footage of it was frustratingly unhelpful. Why had he even done such a thing?

Shinichi spent the vast majority of his life trying to avoid unnecessary physical contact with others. Even soccer sometimes pushed the edges of his tolerance, and there had been a time when he’d only ever reach out to Ran willingly. He didn’t want the burden of other people’s shameful secrets and petty thoughts--he could barely manage his own.

But he, possibly, attempted to purposely insert himself into the Baron’s mind.

That was not something he would do lightly. What had prompted him to do so? And why would he forget afterwards? The only conclusion he could come to was that the Baron tampered with his mind, but that introduced a new slew of questions. Did the Baron do it on purpose, or was Shinichi simply more susceptible to any mind bending affects the Baron’s hypothetical powers had because of his own?

Tiredly, he pushed the thoughts aside. He was thinking himself into circles that brought him no closer to a satisfactory answer.

So he focused on the other cause of his distress and inserted the received memory card into his camcorder with no small amount of trepidation. But when the files loaded, he couldn’t ignore the swell of hope within his chest. All the videos that had been lost when Tequila busted his previous camcorder had been salvaged somehow, undamaged. KID had, for some reason, taken the card he swiped from the police and transferred the memory from one storage disk to another.

Why? How had he known Shinichi had been carrying it? Did he watch the videos? Did he know something about the crows?

Shinichi’s unanswered questions only increased, exponentially, when he noticed that there was an extra file.

He knew, logically, that it was a bad idea. But he wanted at least some resolution, so swallowing his nerves, he carefully hit play.

* * *

 

She woke up to sunlight filtering cheerfully through her blinds. Morning had come, but the world wasn't suddenly a brighter place. The problems of yesterday hadn’t gone away.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and rubbed the grit from her eyes as she forced herself to get up, trying not to think about how long she’d spent crying into her pillow last night.   
She needed to look presentable; there was no point getting in trouble with her school too for being sloppily prepared for class.

But hell, Aoko had never wanted to go back to school _less._

She had half the mind to call in sick, crawl back into bed, and pretend that everything was okay.

But at the same time, she didn’t think she could run away from this. She would have to face it, eventually.

But the cuts from the day before were aching. They had scabbed over quickly, shallow as they were, but they certainly didn’t look good. At least they hadn’t switched to summer uniforms yet, because she’d never be able to hide them all in short sleeves. She wasn't particularly eager to show the marks of her second failure, especially if she too had to look at them.

The usual routine of preparing for school took longer than usual. She kept dropping things: her toothbrush, the frying pan, the bread. But lethargically, she couldn’t even begin to care, just continuing on autopilot. Toast, butter, chew.

She didn’t watch the news. She knew what it would say: Kaitou KID escaped again.

The walk to school was so mundane that she barely registered any of it, even the energetic conversations of the other students. She felt like she was traveling in a fish tank, sounds and sights filtered through several liters of water.

But at the school, a rush of cold fear stopped her in her tracks. Last night hadn’t ended well for anyone, and now she was going to have to face it all over again.

“Fear is the heart of sin, you know.” A smooth voice told her, an unusual shade of red creeping into the peripheral of her vision. She turned to find a girl smiling cooly at her with striking red eyes.

“Sorry?” The word slipped out before she could stop it. If she was remembering right, the girl was the transfer student who joined their class around a month before, who had been rising in notoriety ever since. Koizumi, known for her red hair and absurdly alien attempts at conversation.

“There’s no running from truth.” Koizumi said, and Aoko watched her red lips glisten in the light. “It tends to catch up with you.”

Aoko opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Koizumi strode into the school as if they’d never spoken at all, her red hair blazing like a beacon guiding Aoko inside.

Entranced, she followed after, but with each step her nerves flared. Too soon, she reached her homeroom, and she froze all over again at the sight of it.

No running, Koizumi had said. Aoko didn’t quite get it, but she knew the words weren’t random bullshit. The strange girl had been trying to tell her something.

Aoko stepped into the classroom, and the world didn’t end. Nothing horrible happened. The planet spun on.

As if nothing was wrong, Kaito tossed her a mischievous smile and waggled his eyebrows. She very purposely looked away. Still running.

* * *

One week felt too short a period of time, and yet nowhere near long enough. Despite the retrieval of the footage of his attempted kidnapping and the trap in the warehouse, he couldn’t deliver any of the videos to the police. KID had been clear about that in the message he had left, but Shinichi knew it wasn’t an option in the first place. The police would know that he’d stolen evidence from the station, and was fraternizing with a wanted criminal. At best he’d be placed under police surveillance, and further investigation would be impossible. And while the footage proved the crows existed, the police already knew that. Whatever was going on, they were trying to sweep it under the rug, or at the very least, out of public’s line of sight.

Releasing the videos to the web wasn’t exactly a good idea either, even if it would make quite a splash. He couldn’t make any sort of report so long as the kids were still in danger, with the likelihood of the crows continuing their method of burning the evidence left behind. Inciting the culprits wasn’t going to help.

Which left Shinichi with very little to go on, and two deadlines hanging over his head. Not only was the shadowy time limit of the children’s lives looming on the horizon, but KID’s deal was wracking his nerves as well.

Any further leads were refusing to come to light, despite the fact that he had carefully perused the videos multiple times, combing for hints.

An organized criminal group kidnapping homeless children, including Satoshi, from warehouses across the city and burning the evidence to the ground; an all together unsustainable plan. A spontaneously emerging giant of fire that, for some reason or another, tried to go to the the warehouse from which Satoshi was taken, only to destroy all the evidence before the crows did. An anti-meta group stealing technology and research relating to the the genetics and biochemistry of metahumans, including the work by an obviously brilliant but unknown and unpublicized scientist.

Miyano Shiho was researching the science behind the development of superpowers. Something or someone triggered the emergence of the flaming Goliath that decimated downtown Tokyo. Miyano, if she was alive, was clearly working privately and discreetly, possibly only sending her work to a few select individuals for peer review. In all likelihood, she was unaffiliated with the Red Siamese Cats, otherwise they would have no need to steal her research, but somehow, the Cats had known exactly where to retrieve the files from. Moreover, there was a chance she _wasn’t_ unaffiliated with the other incident of the week.

It was a stretch. And yet, the idea wouldn’t be shaken from his head, as if it was a certainty.

He had to find Miyano Shiho, and that led him right back to Nanyo University.

He had emailed the professor, Hirota Masami, from Nanyo, who had reported the robbery of his files to the police, under the pretense of writing an article on the Cat’s crime. The professor had agreed to an interview, and so here he was, armed with his best equipment.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

Professor Hirota was an older man, edging his way towards being elderly and with a haphazard look in his eye. The kind of man that was becoming flighty in his age and becoming more careless; just like Professor Agasa.

“Not at all!” Oblivious to Shinichi’s amusement, Professor Hirota replied jovially. He looked tired and worn from recent events, but still maintained a kindly, cheerful air. “In fact, I’m a little starstruck. My granddaughter loves your website, and I must say, it’s nice to see young people so involved in current events.”

Well, at least someone thought so. Everybody else seemed to think he’d be better off _less_ involved. “Events like these are hard to ignore.” An understatement, and yet so many people in Tokyo managed with nothing more than willful pigheadedness. “Are you doing alright in the wake of the robbery?”

Professor Hirota smiled, tired but earnest. He didn’t seem too put-out. “Fine, fine. I wasn’t even here. It’s a pity about what was taken, though. I haven't any copies of the files they stole.”

“You don’t have digital versions?” Shinichi put on his best innocent face, pretending that _that_ wasn’t totally his fault. Professor Hirota, thankfully, didn’t seem to think anything off.

“I did, but one of the thieves somehow cracked my computer and deleted all of them.” Now, how had that happened? Hopefully, no one would ever find out. Good thing Shinichi had been wearing gloves the night of the robbery, or he’d be the one answering some pretty uncomfortable questions.

“What about the sources of the files?” He carefully controlled his expression, maintaining the facade of someone curious and concerned.

“I obtained them privately from a colleague, unfortunately.”

“Can’t you ask the colleague to send them to you again?”

“No, sadly. I did try but she seems to have changed all her contact information. I haven’t been able to reach her at all.” Damn it.

“Why do you think the culprits would target these particular files? What were they about?”

“I’m not sure I should say. I am concerned, though. No one steals scientific research with good intentions in mind, and this is too large to be someone simply trying to steal credit for the work.” “The papers were all written by the same woman, on the molecular biochemistry of manifestation of meta-organism abilities.”

“Meta-organism?”

“The manifestation of ‘superpowers’,” the professor made air-quotes with a wry eyebrow quirk, “is not restricted to human beings. Strange and extreme mutations are appearing in all sorts of living organisms, from microbes to amphibians to mammals. The resulting abilities can be very dangerous, even devastating. We might be looking as a new generation of super-superbugs in the next few years; my colleague was searching for a way to prevent and control these manifestations.”

“That’s amazing.” He could easily guess why the Cats were interested in her work, then. “But couldn’t that kind of research also go the other way?”

“I suppose theoretically it would be possible for meta abilities to be forcibly amplified rather than suppressed, but these ‘powers’ don’t come from nowhere. What we are seeing is the extreme expression of genes in a form so incomprehensible to our current scientific knowledge that they seem supernatural.” Professor Hirota explained, obviously shifting slightly into lecture mode. “There is no current basis for the creation of superpowers in an organism not genetically coded to manifest a specific set of abilities.”

“Have you told this to the police?”

“I certainly mentioned it, but I’m not too concerned. My colleague’s work was very preliminary and almost rudimentary; it's all just pathways and biochemistry. It would take years, maybe even decades of experimentation to even fully understand the true depths of these biological functions, let alone tamper with them.” Shinichi wondered if that was really true. He was woefully undereducated in the matters of anything beginning with the word  _meta_ , but truthfully, so was vast majority of the population. The study of meta-human abilities was still more theory than an united discipline, despite the immense progress humanity had made in the recent years.

But a simple reporter couldn't show too much interest in that. “Can you tell me about what else was taken?” 

Professor Hirota shook his head. “Not much, from what I can tell. Some machinery in one of the labs got taken; expensive stuff, but not anything you can’t replace with insurance money.”

Insurance. The Cat’s knowing where to find the research. The ability and training to make use of Miyano’s work.

An inside job.

A sick, dreadful feeling crawling up his spine.

“I would love the opportunity to speak with your colleagues about the incident. Is is possible you could introduce me to some of the others you work with?”

* * *

In the end, speaking with the professor’s colleagues had been fruitless. The staff of just the targeted building alone was too numerous a group for him to question on his own. It was frustrating, but Shinichi knew he’d have to come back to the issue of the Red Siamese Cats with a better game plan. He’d eventually called it a day and left the campus, stopping over in a small park to gather his thoughts before returning to the manor.

Going home left a back taste in his mouth these past few days, after what happened at the heist. The article he’d written had been less than stellar, but at least Jirokichi was more easily satisfied than Shinichi’s own inner demons.

But for once, he wasn’t facing a dead end. He could work with the opportunities the university presented to him; maybe if he got into the staff rooms and offices again, he could discern something. It would be tedious and taxing, but if he could figure out who the leak was, he might be able to tail them back to the elusive Miyano.

And on the topic of _tails_ …

“Are you following me?” He said aloud, not particularly looking anywhere. The sun was setting over the city, painting the towering skyscrapers of glass and steel viciously orange. The shadows of trees were lengthening across the park, creeping over the walkways and fountains.

Somebody behind him laughed. The voice was entirely unfamiliar, but the tone wasn’t. “Depends on how you define the word _following_.”

So he had guessed right. Considering what had happened the other day, Shinichi hadn’t dared to think that the magician wasn’t keeping him under observation. KID had been monitoring him through security feeds and a traffic cams, but once he stepped into the camera-free park, the thief had been forced to take his spying on foot. Shinichi didn’t have the energy to be aggravated over it, not when he had plenty of other reasons to be angry with KID. “Worried that I’ll go to the cops? Or maybe ISHA?” A tall, broad shouldered man with a plain face and murky brown eyes sat down besides him, wearing an easy smile and a blue-collar uniform. The man said nothing; just lounged on the bench and watched the water in the fountain. Shinichi wondered if if they were thinking about the same thing. “I hear your last encounter with the Irregulars got messy.”

“Messy is a good word for it.” KID replied, huffing with amusement. Shinichi didn’t think it was particularly funny, but he and KID didn’t always have the same sense of humor.

“Get too obvious and they might figure out what your powers are.” He was relatively sure they didn’t know already, because they hadn’t reworked their strategies to better counter KID’s hidden strengths. Not like Shinichi had. He’d discovered a few days ago that KID somehow had full access to his computer, possibly through some hidden bug in the returned files, and ever since he’d taken to working with paper and pen.

“Worried about me? You’re surprisingly into this partner-in-crime thing.”

“Hardly.” Just that one word carried a fair amount of scorn, just in case KID was feeling particularly thick and hadn’t noticed that Shinichi was not enjoying their usual games. “But it’ll take the breath out of my article unmasking you and your tricks if everyone is already in on it.” Before this stupid case began, he had never once spared a thought to KID’s identity and the possibility of unveiling it. Now, he found the usual empty threat wasn’t so empty.

He was probably not being fair, hell, KID was probably not even the one he was really angry with. Just a convenient and uncomplaining target he could vent his frustrations on.

“Keep dreaming, stringer. I hear it's good for kids your age to have imagination.” The thief snapped right back, a surprisingly honest undercurrent of bitterness in his tone. Shinichi took a breath and released it as he tried to not remember the rough, frost-bitten edge of KID’s mind. Neither of them were in a healthy enough mindset for their usual banter to come off as anything but sour.

But clawing at each other didn’t solve anything.

Maybe KID was thinking the same thing, because he notably, deliberately eased, shoulders falling back and body folding forward slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was lighter. “You said _hear._ So you really ditched the heist before it even ended?”

“I ran into the Night Baron.”

KID didn’t look surprised. There was something akin to empathy gleaming in his eyes behind those awful contact lenses. “That guy’s the worst.”

“...Agreed.”

“Well, then you might like my plan more than expected.” KID rose from the bench with none of his usual fluidity, perfectly mimicking the tired slouch of a weary middle-aged worker. Shinichi was almost too fascinated by the change to pay the next words their proper attention. Almost. “Come with me, it's about time we went over the game plan.”

Uh oh.

Shinichi turned his eyes to the pastel sky as he lifted himself off the bench, ignoring the rising chill in the air. “Why me?” He asked.

The grin KID struck him with should have been positively terrifying. But Shinichi didn’t feel scared in the slightest. “Hmm, well, I made a promise. And let’s just say, I’m a man of my word.”

Curiosity burned in his brain like a brand, and Shinichi couldn’t help but willingly fall into step behind one of the greatest criminal minds of the century.

If nothing else, this could turn into one hell of an article.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't run off with sketchy thieves kids.


End file.
